Cyprus Spring
by r4ven3
Summary: Ruth has been living in Cyprus for a little over a year, when she spies a familiar face leaving the market in Polis. Another one of my multi-fic (14 chapters this time) Harry & Ruth stories, with a spooky plot to prop up the characters, and get them motivated.
1. Chapter 1

Polis, Cyprus – mid-March 2009:

She is at the market early, given the rain which had fallen overnight, and has been again threatening since dawn. She'd walked into town via the beach, her trainers just breaking the solid crust of sand formed after the rain, revealing the soft dry sand beneath. She has a week off work, and is relieved to have the luxury of a few days to herself.

Ruth loves the market, and given she has lived in Cyprus for over a year now, she knows most of the stall holders, and they know her. Giannis keeps fish especially for her, John and his wife, Katie, have the best breads and cheese, and Helena and her vast family sell the freshest fruits and vegetables. Once she has stocked up for another few days, Katie rushes up to her and hands her an extra loaf of koulouri bread, winking, and patting her own abdomen, clearly rounded with child.

"You wait any longer, your body will be too old. Eat this bread. It always works for me," the younger woman says in perfect English.

Ruth laughs her thanks, and then replies, "It's not the bread that makes the babies."

Katie beams, waving Ruth away with a flick of her wrist.

Ruth's last stop before she leaves is always Stefan's coffee shop. Stefan's wife, Semra, is Turkish, and insists their new customers try her Turkish coffee at least once …... which Ruth had, only days after she moved to Cyprus thirteen months ago. She now has a standing order each time she enters the shop – a medium latte, with a muffin – and the muffin is whatever Semra decides Ruth might like. Today she has chosen a poppyseed muffin for Ruth, who doesn't much care, as all the muffins are delicious and filling.

She always sits at a table by the window, from where she can keep an eye on the entrance to the market, as well as the flow of people to and from the market. _Old habits,_ she thinks, and of course, her thoughts wander to home. Home – as she thinks of it – is still London, and an integral part of her London home is the Grid, MI-5, and of course, Harry. Whenever she thinks of Harry, she remembers their parting kiss, and everything which they'd left unsaid, everything they should have done and hadn't. All because of her ridiculous fear of being gossiped about. From this distance – in time, as well as in miles – her hesitance seems petty, even adolescent. They'd wasted so many opportunities, she and Harry.

She still thinks of him several times a day. During her first year away from Britain, she was in deep grief, having lost everything she valued, including the man she loved. Now …... now she's not sure how she feels. She'd had a few meaningless flings while she was in Italy, and then Greece, and since she's been in Cyprus, there's only been George, and she's keeping him at arm's length, as he is not the kind of man to be satisfied by a fling. They've been out to dinner four times, and he is quite open about his feelings for her, and that he'd like her to consider him as a serious contender for her affections. Those had been his words ….. `Ruth, I would like you to consider me as a serious contender for your affections.' She'd almost laughed, until she noticed the concentrated intensity on his face. She doesn't know what to make of George, so she has asked him to leave her be for the time being, and she'll get back to him. George was much easier to deal with when he was just her friend. Besides, he has a son, and Ruth is hardly ready to take on someone else's child. She is just not ready to be a mother ... not yet, and not with George.

Harry.

He still occupies her thoughts as she's falling asleep, the comforting sound of the water lapping the shore only two hundreds yards away, across the road from her little bungalow. Until she no longer thinks of Harry as she falls asleep, hoping that the day will soon come when she can go home, she cannot consider a relationship with George.

She is in limbo, in more ways that one.

She has just finished her muffin, and is about to finish off her coffee, when through the window she sees a dark-skinned man leaving the market, and heading along the path towards the coffee shop. It can't be. He's in London, surely. As the man gets closer, she notices his designer jeans and his body-hugging, long-sleeved black shirt, showing off his taut body. Is it he? Can it be?

Bloody hell, it is. It's Danny Hunter.

As she watches him ambling along the path, Ruth remembers the memorable day a little over four years ago, when she and Harry had been listening in on the comms, while Fiona Carter and Danny were held hostage by some Iraqi extremists, intent on taking an eye for an eye. Ruth remembers the horror of that day, and the fifteen minutes or so during which they knew one of theirs had been murdered, but they hadn't known whether the victim had been Danny or Fiona. Either way, it was a tragedy. One was a young man without a father, but with a loving mother and grandmother, both of whom depended on him for strength and support. The other was a wife, and a mother of a young boy.

Ruth is still not proud of her response when she'd discovered that Danny had been the one to survive. She'd never talked about it to anyone, not even Harry, and she'd shared many of her private musings with him, and he with her, even back then, before they ever acknowledged that there was `something' between them. Privately, Ruth had been angry with Fiona. She'd left a grieving son and husband, and neither had been the same since her death. In Ruth's estimation, Fiona needed to have made a choice which supported her family, rather working in the field, and dying violently as a result. Adam had been the only one who was allowed to see her body, and the sight of what was left of her head had traumatised him, perhaps for the rest of his life.

Ruth looks up from her musings to see Danny Hunter standing the other side of the window, his mouth open in shock. _ Of course, Danny believes that I threw myself in the Thames._ Ruth gets up from her spot by the window, and leaves the shop. She comes to a stop just short of Danny, his mouth now closed, but his face displaying astonishment.

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here," she says, stepping closer. "I could say the same thing about you."

"Jesus …... _Ruth_!" Danny says, reaching out to grab her by the arms, before he pulls her to him in a bear hug. "I am _so_ glad to see you."

"You'd better let me go, Danny. I can hardly breathe."

"Oh, sorry," he says, pulling away from her, but with a hand still holding one of her arms.

"Are you busy?" she asks, and he shakes his head. "You can help me carry my shopping back to my house."

On the short walk to Ruth's bungalow, they exchange some brief information. Ruth tells him about her leaving of London – leaving out her sad goodbye with Harry – and where she's been in the two years and seven months since she'd had to leave. Danny shares with her the news from the Grid, chiefly the deaths of Adam and Zaf. Ruth had stood still on the beach, where she took a few deep breaths, allowing herself to absorb it without it overwhelming her. Adam's death did not surprise her. He had shown signs of unravelling at the time she'd left London, but Zaf …... Zaf with the cheeky smile, and the confident way with the fairer sex. Zaf should be alive somewhere, stealing hearts. He should not have had to give his life for Queen and country. Ruth then keeps walking, but allows a few tears to fall. She'll cry properly later.

They are in Ruth's small kitchen, sitting over a cup of tea, when Danny tells her why he is in Cyprus.

"I've been doing some intermittent work for Six during the last two years. I thought that …... maybe, just maybe, I might run into …..."

"Zoe?"

"Yeah. Will is back in London. He arrived back not long after you …... left. He had little to say, so I thought I might …..."

"Look for her."

"Any time they need someone to head off to South America, I put up my hand. I'm hoping I'll bump into her, but I'm not holding my breath." Danny takes a deep breath. "I'm travelling as Danny Okede. That's my usual legend. I source holiday destinations for my boss in London. It's plausible enough for people to believe me, and vague enough for them to accept my story. I'm here because a storage of _Yersinia Pestis_ bacterium was uncovered in a semi in South London, and I know I shouldn't be telling you any of this. The family living there are Turkish, and Harry thinks that the connection they have with Cyprus may be relevant."

"_Harry_? How is he?" Ruth finds herself holding her breath.

"Harry? He'll be here tomorrow, so you can see for yourself."

"He's in the _field_?"

"Not exactly. He'll be posing as my boss – a guy who is looking to invest in holiday properties. Chiefly, he's here to snoop around. The person he and Malcolm suspect has family connections in Cyprus, and he owns considerable property in Polis."

"I ….. I've lived here for over a year, and I know quite a lot of the locals."

"Ever heard of Theo Kyriakou?"

"_Theo_? I don't know him, but I work with his cousin …... at the hospital. His cousin, George Kyriakou, is a doctor at the hospital."

Ruth suspects she is already in the middle of whatever is going on here, on this idyllic island.

"Theo began life as a biochemist, but he made his fortune by developing a remedy for arthritis, which he patented, calling it _Kyriarth_, and then sat back while the money rolled in. He invested a lot of it in property, both here and on Crete, and some in the smaller islands off Croatia. He's been quiet these past seven years, and it's suspected he may be …..."

"Harvesting the bacterium responsible for the Black Plague?"

"A variant of it, because we already have the antibiotic to combat the original bacterium. Anyway, Harry has met Theo Kyriakou, and wants to try the personal touch first. Besides, I suspect he needs time away from home. I think his missus is giving him grief, and he needs a break."

There is a long silence while Ruth absorbs Danny's words. They can only be interpreted in one way.

"Harry is ….. _married_?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thank you to all readers for your interest and the reviews so far._**

**_I am sorry to be putting you through this, but it is a story development which I have been wanting to attempt for a while now. Hang in there, and maintain the faith. The back story will be revealed over the next chapter or two._**

* * *

"Yeah," Danny smiles into Ruth's eyes, oblivious to the effect his words have had on Ruth. "Who'd have thought the old bugger would get married? It happened around 6 months ago."

"Do I know her?"

"None of us knew her. It happened out of the blue. Her name's Louisa. Louisa Shepherd. She seems alright, I guess, but …..."

"But what?"

"None of us actually like her. It's not that there's anything _wrong_ with her. She's just …... I dunno …. it's like she's playing a role. To me, she seems a bit fake." Danny grimaces, screwing up his eyes, and biting his bottom lip. "Even Catherine's not that keen on her."

"Catherine?"

"Harry's daughter. I still keep in touch with her. She says that Louisa is a clone of her mother, but ten years younger. Still …... I wouldn't expect a daughter to be terribly keen on her father's second wife."

Ruth is trying to tell herself that she'd dodged a bullet there, but no matter how hard she tries to see this news as a good thing for her, she can't. Danny's news has simply been the last nail in the coffin of her hope for a happy ending for she and Harry. There's no point in it now. He's no longer available.

"Does Harry know I'm here?"

"Harry? No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I believed you to be dead, but -"

"Harry saw me off when I left. He knows I'm alive somewhere, but he's had no way of tracing me. Only Adam and Zaf knew the legend I'm now using, and they're …..."

"They're both dead. Shit."

Danny leaves soon after, stating a desire to go back to his hotel and unpack, and ensure that Harry's room is still available for when he arrives the next day.

"I can't wait to tell Harry you're here," are Danny's last words, as he heads off back up the beach to Polis.

Ruth stands at the door and waves him off, and then steps back into her small house, and lets go of her control, allowing the tears to flow freely.

And flow they do. In the end, she curls up on her bed in a foetal ball, and cries out her pain. She cries for Adam and Zaf, and she cries for Wes Carter, now orphaned, but mostly, she cries for herself. She now knows that the most painful loss of all is the loss of one's long-held dreams. It is over an hour before she feels up to eating anything, and then all she can keep down is fruit. She spends the day wandering up and down the beach, kicking up small pockets of sand with the toes of her trainers, wondering what she should do next.

She doesn't have long to wait.

* * *

Next day, Ruth decides against doing more shopping in Polis. The last thing she needs right now is to run into Harry. So, she is shocked and surprised when, just as she is cutting up cheese and bread for her lunch, she hears a gentle knock on her door. Perhaps it's someone from work, or perhaps George, even though she'd asked him to give her some time to herself for a while. It could even be Danny …... after all, they'd overlooked exchanging phone numbers.

Ruth opens the door, and seeing who it is, she feels her legs begin to give out from under her. She grabs the edge of the door in both her hands in an attempt to remain upright.

"Ruth." That voice. She'd forgotten the effect his voice has on her. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice, and his eyes, as he steps close to her and places his hand under her elbow, is all it takes for her to lose control. She leans into him, and very slowly, he slides his arms around her, and holds her lightly while she sobs into his shoulder. For several minutes, they stand together in the open doorway, until Ruth can once again bring herself under control.

"You'd better come in," she says, still unable to look at him, as she pulls away from him, and leads him into her kitchen. "Would you like some tea?"

"Ruth, show me where the tea and cups are, and I'll make it. I think you need to sit down."

"I'm alright."

"You're not. You've received a shock. Sit here. Please." Harry holds out a chair, and she sits, and then she watches him while he makes their tea.

The first thing she notices is that there is no wedding ring on his finger. That could be for security purposes, as much as a statement of commitment – or not. Many men don't wear wedding rings. Were she and Harry to have married, had their lives been different, would he have worn a ring? Ruth likes to imagine he would, but she cannot dwell on such things. Not now.

Harry is dressed in light-coloured chinos, and a long-sleeved, pale grey shirt. He is little changed, and she enjoys watching him unseen, as he rifles through a kitchen drawer in search of teaspoons. At last, he turns towards her, in his hand her cup of tea.

"You remember how I like it," she murmurs, having taken a sip, and finding it to be just about perfect.

"Burned into my brain," he replies, sitting opposite her with his own cup.

"I was just about to have bread and cheese. You can join me if you wish."

"Thank you. I will, but we'll finish this tea first."

They are both so polite, and it is driving Ruth crazy. He hasn't mentioned his marital status, and she is about to say something, when he speaks first.

"Danny mentioned he'd told you I was married."

"Yes, he did. I was surprised. I …..." Ruth shakes her head. "Where are my manners? Congratulations, Harry."

Harry briefly nods his acknowledgement. "I …... I tried to find you …... before I tied the knot. I wanted to …..."

They are back on familiar ground, neither knowing quite what to say to the other. They are back to sentences forever unfinished, words which may never be said, and eye contact sought, but held only for a moment.

"I've lived on Cyprus for thirteen months, Harry. I've only used the legend, Ruth Gordon, in that time. Before that, I was Emma Chambers. If you had followed that legend, you would have -"

"- run into a dead end in Greece."

"Yes." Ruth looks down at her tea cup, knowing he is watching her closely. "Why did you want to contact me?"

"Ruth ….. when you left, we were on the cusp of something …... rather wonderful. I wanted to find out if you still felt something for me, if you still thought of me. Had you moved on from me, I was prepared to marry Louisa. Had you still feelings for me, I would have turned her down."

"She asked _you_?"

"Yes." He smiles at her, and then waits a moment before he continues speaking. "Did you still have feelings for me, Ruth? Had I been able to contact you, what would your answer have been?"

What can she possibly say to that? If she says no, she risks hurting him. If she says yes, she still had – _has_ – feelings for him, then this puts them both in a position of extreme awkwardness, and him in an impossible situation. Some rather quick thinking leads her to almost telling him that she was over him rather quickly. That would allow him to feel better about having married, and he can move on without regret.

It's just that it would be a lie, and she cannot lie to Harry, so she says nothing.

"Ruth?"

"How am I supposed to answer a question like that?"

Harry watches her face very closely. He knows her well enough to be able to detect the pain which she is not quite able to hide. It is then that he knows that Ruth still feels something for him, and that `something' is rather powerful. He watches her as a trickle of tears begins to roll down her cheeks, and it is then he knows for sure. Not only does Ruth still care deeply for him, but he is still in love with her. There is no other explanation for her tears, and the powerful desire he is fighting to walk around the table, and take her in his arms, and to kiss away the sadness which he sees in her eyes.

There is only one way he can look at this situation. By marrying Louisa, he has made a bloody mess of three people's lives.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Thank you again for your reviews. The reactions to Harry's news re Louisa were a mixed bag, and rather interesting. Some of this is explained in this chapter, and more will be revealed as the story develops. **_

* * *

Harry insists Ruth remain seated at the table while he serves up a lunch of sliced koulouri bread, olives, and three different cheeses, all of which Ruth had purchased the previous morning at the market. Their meal is quiet, with Harry asking a few questions about Polis, and Ruth answering them as clearly as she can.

They are sitting over another cup of tea – prepared by Harry – when he asks the question he is there to ask.

"Ruth," he says quietly, "I might need you to …... help me on this operation. You already know -"

"It's alright, Harry. I'll help you. I'm already using a legend, so what can be the harm? I have holidays owing, so I'll ask for an extra week. That shouldn't pose problems."

"I may need your local knowledge, and perhaps an introduction to some people. There may be functions for which I need a partner."

Seeing Ruth's discomfort when he mentions needing a partner, Harry does not pursue the subject.

"The man you're ... here to see ... has several homes in Polis," Ruth offers, "and he owns most of the shore property the other side of the town."

"Have you met Kyriakou?"

"No, but I've heard of him. George – his cousin – has told me about him." Ruth sits over her cup of tea, nursing it between her hands, while she feels Harry's eyes on her. "Harry …..."

"Yes, Ruth."

"You haven't told me anything about your wife. Nothing. Most men who have not long been married are full of stories about their new spouse. You've hardly mentioned her."

Harry sits in silence for some time, and when she looks up at him, Ruth sees that he is watching her, his expression unreadable. His eyes almost bore holes into her skin.

"Is there something wrong?" she continues.

Harry sighs heavily, and places his cup very carefully on the table in front of where he sits. "I …... made a mistake when I married Louisa."

"How do you know that?"

"It's clear to me now that I married her for all the wrong reasons, and now ... seeing you again, I ... deeply regret it."

"Have you spoken to her since you've been in Cyprus?"

"I only arrived here three hours ago, and once I spoke to Danny, my first priority was to see you ... so no, I haven't spoken to her."

Ruth hesitates, knowing that she is walking on very uneven ground. "If what you say is ….. true, Harry, you have to talk to her. Better to let her know your concerns, than to turn up at home one day ready to collect your things and move out."

Ruth looks up to see him still looking at her, and she is beginning to feel uncomfortable. His eyes are so dark, and his expression so intense.

"I can't speak to her yet, Ruth. I …. just can't. I need to ... clear my head. It was one of the reasons I offered to accompany Danny on this operation. I figured it was a safe enough trip, and I'm unlikely to get myself killed, and the distance from London might allow me to sort out my thoughts. And then ... here you are. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is."

His last words are almost whispered, but Ruth hears them loud and clear. She knows that she has to get some distance from him, otherwise she'll be inviting him into her bedroom. In this moment, as Harry's dark eyes are holding her own, she wants him in a way she is barely able to admit, even to herself …... _especially_ to herself.

"Perhaps you should go now, Harry," she says quietly. "I don't wish to be responsible for coming between a man and his wife."

"You wouldn't be, Ruth. Were there a strong bond of love between Louisa and me, nothing at all could interfere with that, and nor would I want it to. But there isn't that bond between us …... not like there was between you and me. Not like there …..." Harry quickly closes his mouth, his lips forming a firm line, as if he has to force himself to hold in the words he most wishes to say.

There is a moment when they watch one another across the table, food forgotten, the outside world so far away as to be non-existent and unimportant. There is just the two of them, in this small cottage close to the sea, the lapping of the waves just audible over the rapid beating of their two hearts.

Ruth gets up suddenly, and begins gathering the used plates and utensils. Just as quickly, Harry rises from his chair, and hurries to her side, which by this time is at the sink. Very gently, he takes the plates from her hands, and places them on the side, and then, his face so close to her own, he turns her to face him, his hands on her hips. Ruth feels his fingers warm through her thin dress, and she can smell his cologne, and his breath on the skin of her cheek. His scent in her nostrils almost breaks her considerable resolve, which at this moment would need very little for it to break. His body exudes a warmth that she wishes she could sink into, allowing it to wrap around her, so that she'd never again have to gather her few possessions and run. Were she to give in to it, she knows she'd never again have cause for being afraid. She can barely look into his eyes, but she does, and it is then she knows that he means what he has said. His feelings for her are still deep and powerful, and genuine. But, regardless of his words and his feelings for her, he is married. She is in love with, and loved by a man who is married, and even though his marriage is not a good one, he is still legally bound to another woman.

Deciding she should remain cautious for now, Ruth puts both hands on his chest, which immediately prevents him from getting closer, and perhaps kissing her. Were he to have kissed her, they would surely have ended up in her bed. He takes a breath as if he is about to speak, but Ruth places the fingertips from one hand over his lips.

"Harry, as hard as it is for me to be saying this, you have to go. You're in Cyprus for a reason, and you have to focus on that. When you need my help, all you have to do is ask me, and I'll do what I can. When the operation is over, perhaps we can talk. It's clear we have a lot to talk about."

Harry steps away from her, and nods. He takes out his phone, and proceeds to exchange mobile phone numbers with her. To avoid being further distracted by him, Ruth shows him to the front door, and after placing a chaste kiss on her cheek, he leaves, walking down the path with his usual purposeful gait. Ruth stands in the open doorway, watching him stride towards his rental car. When he turns to look at her before he gets in the car, she blows him a kiss. Harry smiles widely, gets into the car, and drives off.

Ruth stands in the doorway until Harry's white Renault disappears between the trees. Ruth is prepared to admit to herself that Harry's visit may have changed the course of her life forever.


	4. Chapter 4

Ruth's cottage – Polis, Cyprus – that evening:

It is close to 8 o'clock when Ruth hears another rap on the door at the side of the house – the same door Harry had knocked on that morning, and the same door she'd brought Danny through when he'd helped her carry home her shopping the day before. She feels her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she quickly walks to open it, knowing that she wants it to be Harry, just as much as she dreads it being him. She knows that were he to be knocking on her door after dark, she'd not be saying no to any suggestions he may have.

"Danny!" she says, when she finds him leaning his back against the doorjamb. "Would you like to come in?"

Under one arm he carries a laptop, and as he walks through the doorway, he lifts the bottle of wine he holds in his free hand. "I thought we might crack this, seeing that I walked here."

"You didn't hire a car?"

"I did, but I decided to walk. It's a nice night, the natives appear friendly, and Harry has asked me to deliver this to you."

Danny places the laptop on Ruth's kitchen table, and opens it, then turns it on. "Despite the wine, I'm here to work. Harry says you're prepared to help."

"Yes, I told him I'd help in any way I can."

Danny busies himself with the laptop, while Ruth shuffles around in one of her drawers in search of a corkscrew. She opens the bottle, and pours them each a generous glassful, and then sits beside Danny, watching him as he skilfully negotiates the menu.

"Here's what I did today," he says, his face smiling as he turns the screen so that Ruth can see it more clearly.

"I don't recognise that building," Ruth says, after she takes her first sip of the fruity Croatian white wine. "Where is it?"

"Nicosia. It's the Kyriakou Laboratories, and all I had to do was hack into their own CCTV." Danny smiles conspiratorially at Ruth. "Malcolm's been teaching me a few tricks of the trade. Besides, I think Malcolm might be retiring soon. He's making noises to that effect."

That news does not surprise Ruth, although she knows he'll be sadly missed when he leaves. Mostly, it will be Harry who misses him.

"And then there's this," Danny adds, pressing another key, so that the view on the monitor is from the inside of the foyer, facing towards the street. "Anyone who enters the building through the main door will be caught on this camera. This camera will give the best view of faces as the staff enter the building to sign on for the day. These images feed back to the Grid, where Malcolm is running the faces through a database of what he calls Likely Suspects."

"And what is the criteria for someone to be a …... Likely Suspect?" Ruth is surprised to find that she is enjoying herself. This is so much more rewarding – and fun – than office work at the hospital, most of which is data entry.

"Anyone who has a history which may have been flagged any time in the past decade or so. For instance, the laboratory manager is a man called Asu Betesh, and he's Syrian, so that immediately gets flagged. I'm leaving this with you, Ruth, because your instincts are better than mine, and because through the email account on this laptop, you can safely communicate with Malcolm. I think he'd prefer to speak to you than me. He once called me an irresponsible adolescent."

"He didn't."

"He did. Admittedly, I deserved it, but it hurt, and I still haven't forgiven him."

"So …... what will you do while I'm busy here?"

"Whatever Harry tells me to do." Danny looks up from the screen, and across at Ruth, whose face is quite close to his own. "Harry was quite chipper when he got back to the hotel after visiting you. What did you say to him?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Harry and I are old friends. We go back a long way."

"So do he and I," Danny adds quickly, "but he's never that pleased to see me."

"Oh …... we talked. It was nice."

"Did you and he ever …... you know? We all thought you might."

"Oh, Danny, what an imagination you have. Harry and I are just …... close friends. We enjoy one another's company. We've missed each other these past two and a half years."

"Mmmm." Danny watches Ruth's face closely, and for longer than necessary, but she gives nothing away.

Ruth suspects that Danny hasn't believed a word she's said.

* * *

Next morning, Ruth rises soon after dawn, and on checking the laptop, finds an email from Malcolm.

"_I can't find anything untoward on Theo Kyriakou. He appears to be a law-abiding and honest individual. Were it me in Cyprus, I'd not pursue him, but I think you need to get all the information you can on the laboratory manager – Asu Betesh. I'm attaching a newspaper article from 1988, when he was at Kings College in London. I'm hearing warning bells. What do you think?_

_Oh, and Ruth – it's lovely to be communicating with you again._

_Yours,_

_Malcolm"_

So, over a breakfast of a boiled egg and soldiers, accompanied by a cup of tea, Ruth reads the article Malcolm attached to his email, and then spends just over an hour doing a deep search on Asu Betesh. What she discovers is worrying. She is just about to call Harry, when her phone rings.

"Good morning, Harry," she says, thrilled that he'd want to speak to her first thing in the morning.

"Good morning. I ….. I wanted to speak to you before I did anything else today."

"Talking to you is a lovely way to begin the day."

And it is. Ruth is smiling, as she gazes out at the clear blue sea, a slight breeze off the ocean reaching her house, and lifting the edge of the net curtain at the kitchen window. Suddenly, her life feels rich and full of hope. She temporarily forgets that Harry is married. It is easier that way.

Harry seems to hesitate before he continues speaking. "Ruth …... I wanted to ask you something. There's a dinner tomorrow night in Nicosia, and I've managed to get myself invited. I'd like you to accompany me. You can look at it as work, but I'd enjoy your company. It's a promotional dinner for a new Kyriakou product …... something to do with blood pressure control. I'd originally planned to take Danny with me, but I'd much rather be attending this dinner with you."

"You'd better not tell Danny."

"Will you, Ruth?"

"I …... I'd love to, Harry. Is it formal?"

"No. Just wear a nice frock. I'm wearing a dark suit, and a plain tie. I …..."

What Ruth doesn't know is that Harry is imagining her dressed in a body-hugging dress which falls to just below her knees, and he is suddenly tongue-tied.

"How did you manage an invitation?"

"That was the easy part. I emailed Theo Kyriakou almost a week ago, telling him I was planning a trip to Cyprus, and last night he emailed me back the invitation. I was planning to bring Ros on this trip, just so that I could have female company should I need a dinner companion, but now I'm glad she found herself too busy at the last minute."

"I'm glad, too."

_Skating. Thin. Ice._

There is another pause, during which both try to decide how far they wish this conversation to go. It is Ruth who brings them back to the task at hand.

"I've discovered some worrying things about Betesh, Harry. I also feel that Theo Kyriakou plays no part in whatever Betesh is up to."

"How can you be sure, Ruth?"

"I know the family. I know his cousins. They're good, hard working people. They're not political. Theo is wealthy. He has a thriving, legitimate business, and he's a land owner. Why would he risk that?"

"You're sure about that?"

"Almost one hundred percent. Theo grew up in Polis. It's a small town, and people here were protected by distance from the troubles in Nicosia. They see themselves as Cypriots first and foremost. Their ethnicity is almost unimportant …... at least, on a day to day basis. Their incomes depend upon tourism, so they have to look outwards and forwards, rather than inwards and backwards. It's Betesh who worries me. He became politicised while at Damascus University, and it was while he was doing his post grad work at King's College, London, that he met Kyriakou. Kyriakou was doing a bit of part-time tutoring at King's in the mid to late 80's. But the most worrying thing is that we can't find Asu Betesh. He hasn't shown up in Nicosia, nor London, and he's meant to be working in Nicosia."

"You sound worried about this, Ruth."

"I just have an instinct …... You know how I …..."

"Yes, I do, and I trust your instincts. I want to get Theo alone for a moment, which is why I need to attend this dinner. I want to quiz him about Betesh."

"Does Theo know what you do for a living, Harry?"

"Yes, he does, although he knows me by the legend I'm using on this trip."

"Which is?"

"John Baxter."


	5. Chapter 5

It is still light as Harry drives them on the long and circuitous route to Nicosia. It is a trip of a little over two hours, and Ruth is relishing spending the time cloistered alone in a car with him. He'd picked her up from her cottage on the dot of five-thirty, and she had enjoyed the attention, his eyes moving over her as she'd opened her front door to him. The truth is that she'd had to go into Polis and buy a dress, and that hadn't been easy. Dressy occasions are rare in Polis, and in the end, she'd consulted Katie, who had sent her to a small shop just off the high street. There, Ruth had found the perfect dress for her, clinging to her body, in midnight blue, with a dangerously low neckline, the uneven hem falling to just below her knees. Finding shoes to match was easier, and Ruth had chosen a pair of dark blue strappy shoes with medium heels. As she sits beside Harry, occasionally indulging in a glance at his profile, she wriggles her toes in her shoes, hoping they'll not cripple her feet before the night is over.

"What's Danny doing tonight?"

Harry glances at her, smiling into her eyes. "I told him to take the night off. He's planning to go out for a drink. I warned him to not lose sight of why we're here."

"I think Danny's lonely. He still holds a torch for Zoe."

Harry nods, and then quickly looks at her. "I can understand that," he says quietly.

_So this is the way it's going to be_, she thinks. _Lots of longing looks, and searching for a chance to move beyond regret. Why not? It's clear that Harry's marriage is on the rocks._

Ruth's curiosity about how Harry managed to get himself into a bad marriage gets the better of Ruth. "Harry," she ventures, after a long silence between them, "how did you and Louisa meet?"

Harry darts a quick look at her, and seeing genuine curiosity, he decides to answer truthfully. "Nothing very romantic, I'm afraid. When Catherine is in London she either flat-shares, or flat-sits for one of her friends who is out of town. Last summer, the only place she could find when she came back to London was a sublet in a rather nice flat in a building just south of Marylebone Road. The tenant was a friend of hers who was to be away for a few months. To cut the story short, Catherine had trouble with the heating. It wouldn't turn off. She rang the leasing agent, but they hadn't got back to her, so she rang me. I couldn't figure it out either, so I rang the agent again and made a bit of a fuss." He turns to Ruth and smiles, and she smiles back, knowing that Harry's idea of `making a fuss' is to kick up an almighty stink. "In the end," he continues, "the agent sent someone out straight away, and the owner of the flat also turned up to investigate."

"I'm guessing Louisa wasn't the person who fixed the heating."

"No, she was the owner. She was very nice and apologetic, and she left her number with Catherine, in case she had any more trouble with the agent. She also gave me her number ... for emergencies, she said. It was Catherine who pointed out to me that Louisa was interested in me. I hadn't noticed. I wasn't terribly interested, but Catherine kept pushing me, and in the end, I rang Louisa, just to get Catherine off my back."

"So ... your daughter is responsible for you meeting her."

"In a way. Catherine only stayed there three months, and then she got her own place. By then, Louisa and I had drifted into talking about marriage." Harry sighs heavily. "I wasn't in love with her, Ruth, not even back then ... but ... she felt familiar, like I knew her already, and I did. It turned out that she's much like Jane. Very charming, bright, engaging, but ... with a rather dark side, which I didn't even see until we were married, and living together in her place."

"And ... why don't you wear a wedding ring?"

Ruth feels Harry turn to gaze at her, but she keeps her eyes ahead. "I have one," he says, "but ... I haven't worn it since our honeymoon ... which was a weekend in Rome. I told Lou it would put her in danger were I to wear it, which isn't always true. I felt ... like a fake whenever I wore it."

"Thank you for telling me," Ruth says quietly. Ruth is aware that Harry has been damaged by both his marriages, and so she'd best treat him gently.

* * *

Ruth is relieved that the dinner is a buffet, and she and Harry can freely move around the room, speaking to people, some of whom Ruth has met before. Most work in the pharmaceutical business, and she has met them when they've visited Polis Hospital. She and Harry move around the room together, and all the time she feels his hand – steady and warm - on her lower back. Ruth is enjoying every moment in his presence.

"John, it's good to see you."

They both turn to see a tall, middle aged Greek man, his smile showing off perfect teeth.

"Theo, it's good to see you again." Harry reaches out and shakes Theo's hand, and then turns towards Ruth, and with his left hand on her back, he draws her even closer to his side. "This is Ruth Gordon. Ruth …... Theo Kyriakou."

Ruth is stunned by how much Theo resembles George. He is a little taller, and perhaps better looking, but the family resemblance is striking – the same intense stare, and the square jaw and firm line of the mouth.

"I work with your cousin, George, in the hospital in Polis," she says, as she shakes his hand, all the time very aware of Harry's warm hand on her back.

It is almost an hour later than Harry manages to get Theo on his own. He quickly returns to Ruth, asking her to stay close to the double doors which lead to the terrace. "I'm sorry you can't sit in on the meeting," he explains. "It's best he doesn't know your background."

"It's alright, Harry. I'm not planning to leave you this early in the night."

She's joking, but his face shows concern that she is being truthful.

"Go," she says. "I'll be waiting right here."

Ruth finds a chair close to the double doors, and sits alone, feeling protected in the shadows, as she watches the people who move around the room. Schmoozing, Harry calls it. It is all rather fake, but just for one night, Ruth is happy to be part of it. Two different men ask her to dance, but she shakes her head, explaining – in perfect Greek – that her partner is in conference with Mr Kyriakou, and she's waiting for him.

It is almost forty minutes later that Harry appears at her side.

"I'm sorry about that, Ruth. I hadn't intended to leave you alone for this long."

She stands, and steps closer to him. "Harry, I've been alone for the past two and a half years. Sitting on my own is something I do rather well."

Suddenly, Harry grasps her hand, and leads her out of the dining room, across the foyer, and into the bar.

He finds a small table for two, and pulls out a chair for Ruth.

"Shouldn't we be getting home?" she asks. "After all, you've done what you came here to do."

"White wine?" he asks her, giving no indication of having heard her.

Ruth nods, and Harry turns and heads towards the bar. He comes back with a glass of white wine for her, and a whiskey for himself. Then he sits in the chair opposite, and sips his drink, while he watches her closely.

"Spit it out, Harry. What is it you're having difficulty saying?"

"You know me too well," he says, momentarily breaking eye contact with her. He sighs heavily, as if preparing to speak.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing's wrong. I agree with you that Kyriakou is innocent of any level of espionage. He seemed …... genuinely shocked by what I told him. He's known Asu Betesh for almost twenty years, and he can't believe that the man would betray him. Apparently, Betesh has taken leave for ten days. Kyriakou doesn't know why. He's promised me he'll contact his personnel officer in the morning. Until I hear back from him, we're still only working on conjecture."

"There's something else, isn't there? You've heard from your wife, haven't you?"

"There is something else, but no, I haven't heard from …... Louisa."

Ruth notices his reluctance to use the term, `my wife'. That tells her what she has a need to know.

"What is it, Harry? You can tell me anything."

"I know I can." Harry's eyes are on her again, and they are warm. "I …... you might not be happy with what I'm about to tell you."

"You have to tell me some time."

"I …... Kyriakou gave me a room key …... for this hotel …... for us to use …... tonight."

Of all the things she thought Harry may have been about to tell her, Ruth had not expected this. She sits back in her chair, and watches him. She is sure he feels uncomfortable, if his body language is to be believed.

"I didn't bring a toothbrush," she says coyly, "or anything to wear to bed."

"He assured me that our …... requirements would be provided ….. at his expense." Harry smiles, and leans a little closer. "What do you say, Ruth? Shall we stay?"

Ruth's instinct is to suggest they go straight home, before they do anything they may regret, but there is a part of her – a part deep inside her – telling her that this is an opportunity not to be wasted, and she and Harry should grab it with both hands.

"There's just one thing I need to know, Harry. Before I decide …... I need to know what this will mean …... to you …... for us. I'm not interested in a one night stand …... even with you."

"Nor am I, Ruth. You're asking me about how important my marriage is to me …... aren't you?"

Ruth nods, and then takes a gulp of her wine. She feels deeply embarrassed by having to confront Harry in this way. Sensing her embarrassment, he reaches across the table, and places his warm hand over her own.

"For me, my marriage is over, Ruth. And if I'm being truthful, it was never a marriage to begin with. I married Lou because I was tired of being alone, and she seemed to want me. I moved into her home, but kept my own house. She told me right from the start that I was keeping it just in case, and she was right, but …... I wouldn't admit that to her. My own house was my security, should things not work out. Even in the first weeks after Lou and I were married, when I believed that I was happy, I still thought of you, wishing I could find you."

"Harry …... it's not like you to be so …... reckless."

"That's a good word for what I did. It _was_ a reckless act. Lou wanted us to be married, and I went along with it because I'd spent enough of my life on my own. There were problems right from the start. I buried myself in my work, and told myself things would improve in time …... but they never did. I opted to join Danny on this trip to Cyprus because …... I needed some solitude. I needed to discover the truth. And now I know the truth."

Ruth doesn't answer him right away. She is satisfied that his marriage is not an obstacle for them. She'd love to ask him his plans for what happens after they spend the night together, but she also knows that she's indulging in her habit of becoming bogged down in the details. What she wants - what she _really_ wants - is to feel free to enjoy opportunities such as the one Harry is now presenting to her.

"I think we should stay," she says at last, and the look of relief and joy on Harry's face is worth waiting for. He grasps her hand tighter, and leans closer to her.

"We don't have to do anything, Ruth," he whispers. "It might be nice to just sleep together in the same bed. Just because we have a room for the night, we don't have to …..."

"I'm not tired yet, so I thought we could go to the room and see what …..."

"For a second, I thought you were about to say, `see what comes up'."

"I was, but then I …..."

"Thought better of it?"

"I edited myself just in time."

Ruth smiles into his eyes, and squeezes his hand. Neither can believe this is happening.


	6. Chapter 6

Home of Selena and Theo Kyriakou – same night:

Much to his wife's concern, Theo Kyriakou had opted to drive himself to the promotion dinner. She knows she should accompany him to these functions – even if only as a display of support and solidarity – but she can't tolerate the fake bonhomie. At age 51, Selena is three years older than her husband, and is no longer prepared to press the flesh. Besides, she needs to be home for when Kass arrives home.

She is relieved when she hears the familiar thud of the door of Theo's Peugot closing. She'll feel safer with him at home. She'll feel happier when she can talk him into picking up Kass from the party at her friend's house. The streets of Nicosia are not safe at night for young girls. They never have been, not in Selena's lifetime.

It is when she hears another man's voice, speaking in English, his tone tight and angry, that Selena knows that something is very, very wrong. Without thinking about the consequences of her actions, Selena heads out of the living room, and into the vast hallway, where she sees her husband being led into the house by his Syrian laboratory manager. She feels movement behind her, and before she can turn, a hand grabs her mouth from behind, followed by a thud on the back of her head, and then all is black.

Savvas Cafe Bar – Polis, Cyprus:

At the same time Ruth and Harry are waiting for a lift to take them to the third floor of their hotel in Nicosia, Danny Hunter has struck gold. He'd spent an hour sitting alone in a corner of the cafe bar, when an attractive – _very_ attractive – young woman of Middle Eastern appearance asks can she join him.

"Hi," she says, in an accent more British than Middle Eastern, "I'm Mel."

"Danny."

"Danny …... I have decided you're the most interesting looking man in this bar tonight. Seriously, though, you look lonely. Did your girl stand you up?"

Danny recognises a come-on when he hears it. He sits up straight, and begins paying attention.

Nicosia – Cyprus:

Ruth stands in the middle of the hotel room, and stares. The room is enormous. The bed is big enough to comfortably sleep five people. There are two bathrobes laid out on the bed, along with a pair of pale blue silk pyjamas for him, and an ivory silk nightgown for her. There is a complimentary bottle of champagne chilling in a cooler beside the bed. She ignores Harry for a moment, and investigates the bathroom, where there are soaps, shower and bath gels, shampoo, thick towels, a hair dryer, and several perfumes and skin creams – for him as well as for her.

As she wanders back into the bedroom, she sees two pairs of slippers beside the bed – a small pair for her, and a larger pair for him.

"Why would we need to wear slippers on a carpet this plush?"

She looks across the room to see Harry watching her, his hands in his pockets, and a small smile on his lips. He moves to the champagne, and lifts it from the cooler.

"Shall I open this?"

"I could really do with a cup of tea right now."

"Consider it done," he says, placing the champagne back on ice, and moving to pick up the phone.

* * *

They have not touched one another since they stepped through the door into the room. While they waited for the tea and sandwiches to be delivered, they took turns in using the bathroom, so that by the time room service arrives, they are each dressed in their night wear, over which they wear their thick, fluffy white bathrobes. Ruth perches on the edge of the bed, as Harry carries the tray into the room, and places it on the table beside Ruth's side of the bed. He is aware that they are putting off the moment when they will decide whether they will, or whether they won't. He really, really wants to, but he also doesn't wish to push Ruth into anything before she is ready.

So, it is with surprise that Harry finds himself sitting on the bed beside Ruth, their knees barely touching, each sipping from their cups of tea. Their talk is of the room, more of the conversation Harry had with Kyriakou, and about Danny might or might not be doing right about now.

"I hope he remembers that he's still working," Ruth muses.

"I wouldn't have allowed him to come all this way were I not sure about him," Harry adds.

Their conversation dries up, and Harry puts his cup and Ruth's on the tray on the bedside table. Then he turns towards Ruth. She is already looking up at him, her face open, her eyes on his. He places both his hands on his knees, and waits for her to give the signal. He knows that they are better with actions than they are with words.

Harry is relieved when Ruth makes the first move. She turns to face him, and lifts her hand to his face. She slides her thumb over his chin, her eyes on his mouth.

"You've shaved," she says.

"Twice. Once before I came out tonight, and again while I was in the shower."

"That's a little …... excessive."

"I did it ….. just in case ..."

Ruth's eyes are still on his mouth, and in his mind, that can only mean one thing. He slowly leans towards her, and places his lips on hers. The kiss is gentle, and soft and promising, and before they lose themselves in passion, he pulls away from her.

"You have to be sure, Ruth."

"I am sure. I've never been more certain of anything." She hesitates, searching Harry's face for any evidence of doubt. "You have to be sure, too," she adds. "You can't go running back to your wife after this."

Harry's answer is to look into Ruth's eyes until she is almost about to look away, and then he puts both arms around her, and draws her close to him, as he kisses her, and this time the kiss becomes passionate, so that within moments, a low humming can be heard from both throats.

Nicosia Divisional Police Headquarters, Cyprus:

With the time just before 11 pm, Sabas Spyrou is the only detective still on duty, when a message reaches his desk about a disturbance in a home just west of the city centre. He can't understand why the job has been sent upstairs, and he's about to chew someone out – anyone – when he notices the address, and the name of the people in the house where the disturbance has taken place. Theodore and Selena Kyriakou. Sabas knows Theo and Selena. They are his friends …... acquaintances. They nod to one another when they see one another, which is rarely.

Spyrou rings down to the desk to speak to the duty officer who took the call, and what he learns has his heart racing.

"Why didn't this get through to my desk earlier?" he barks in Greek.

"We sent out a car, and what they saw through the window had them calling it in again. That's when I sent the job to you, sir. Twenty minutes ago."

"I was busy," Spyrou lies. He restrains himself from adding, `I'm a detective', as if a desk officer would be impressed by that.

Excellent. A challenge. This is the reason he joined the police back in 1992.

Savvas Cafe Bar – Polis, Cyprus:

"Who are you ringing?" Danny asks her. She seems distracted, and Danny is afraid he might be losing his touch.

"My father. He's in Nicosia. Or he should be. He's meant to be spending the evening with my Uncle Hassan, whom I haven't seen in a couple of months."

Mel has shown little interest in Danny, other than as a drinking companion, and he has come to the conclusion that she is only talking to him because he is young and male, and most of the men in the bar are already partnered. Okay, so maybe it's time for him to engage in a little spying. Harry and Ruth are at that dinner in Nicosia, so maybe …... just maybe …...

"Who is he ... your father?" he asks her, and the name she gives has him almost choking on his beer.

Nicosia – Cyprus:

The couple in the hotel room have forgotten about the tea they were drinking, as well as the champagne. They are stretched out on the bed together, their bathrobes lying on the floor beside the bed, his pyjama top discarded, and her nightgown on the floor beside it, so that they are each able to freely run their hands over the bare skin of the other. She is sure that she is about to climax, just from his fingers on her breasts, and his tongue forming circles around the nipple of her other breast. He is hyper aware of her thigh pressing against his erection, and is so aroused that he can barely breathe. He lifts his head from her breast, and kisses her mouth hungrily. He turns his body slightly, so that his hard flesh presses between her legs, causing her to gasp into his mouth.

"Harry," she breathes against his mouth, "do you think we should -"

And that is when Harry's phone rings from the bedside table.

They both stop what they are doing. Ruth removes her hands from inside his pants, where she'd been squeezing the flesh of his buttocks with her fingers, and Harry slowly takes his hand from her breast.

"Shit," he says, rolling away from her, "I have to answer that. It could be important. Ruth, I am so, so sorry."

"I know you are. So am I, but you forget that I understand."

Ruth rolls across the bed, and lifts her bathrobe from the floor. She sits up to slide it on, and then ties it loosely. As she is doing this, she watches him as he crawls across the bed to his phone. He is wearing only pyjama bottoms, and his prominent erection brings a smile to her face. She knows that they will get back to this some time soon. They have to.

"Yes," Harry barks into the phone.

He listens, and what he hears has him sitting on the edge of the bed, and paying attention. Ruth watches in disappointment, as while he listens to what the caller has to say, his erection slowly diminishes.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thank you to all who are still following this and reading, and especially to reviewers.**_

_**This chapter follows on directly where the last one left off.**_

* * *

Harry ends the call, and returns his phone to the table by the bed. He then sits, and looks ahead, staring at the wall in front of him. "That was Malcolm," he says at last. "I think the shit's about to hit the fan."

Ruth has poured them each a fresh cup of tea, adding milk and sugar to each. "Just to get us back into the right frame of mind," she says, handing Harry's cup to him. He drinks several mouthfuls, while Ruth sits close beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee.

"To cut a rather long story short, less than an hour ago, Malcolm had a flag come up for Hassan Betesh, younger brother of Asu. He arrived at Nicosia Airport late this morning, flying directly from Damascus. The younger Betesh is even more politicised than his brother, and is also much cleverer, and more prepared to take risks. By profession, he is a geneticist – he obtained his doctorate from Damascus University - so has the smarts for working with DNA. Malcolm has been following him in his own time, and has only just put together his background, and the probability of him being the one working on a new strain of the Plague bacterium. He says he didn't tell me, because he thought I had enough on my plate." Harry grimaces, and Ruth understands the face he makes. He feels guilty for not being more on the ball.

"You can't be everywhere at once, Harry. You're only one man."

He lets his hand rest on her hand, and then she turns her palm upwards, so that their fingers lace. They each watch their hands with more concentration than necessary. They are both thinking about what almost happened between them, and how much they wish they were still in bed together. Suddenly, Harry leans across and kisses Ruth. It is a brief, but passionate kiss.

"We'll get back here, Ruth. I promise you we will …... I won't let the job interfere with …... us. Not now. Not again."

She nods her reply, and with her free hand, she places her fingertips on his lips. Harry grasps her hand and kisses her palm.

"Now I have to ring Andrew Blaby from Six. Chances are he'll be out drinking in some Nicosia bar, so I hope he can hear his phone's ringtone."

Harry then disengages from Ruth, gathers his bathrobe from the floor beside the bed, and puts it on. He then crosses the room, while he speaks to the most senior MI-6 operative stationed in Nicosia.

"He's getting his posse together," he says to Ruth after he finishes the call. "He also has access to a paramilitary unit …... similar to CO-19. There's not a lot more I can do for now."

He no sooner finishes his sentence than his phone again rings. He looks at the caller display, and makes a face. When he shows Ruth his phone, she reads `Louisa calling' on the display.

"She's the last person I wish to speak to," he says, and he is about to press the `Deny Call' icon, when Ruth speaks.

"Speak to her, Harry. I think you should …... even if it's to tell her that you're busy, and haven't time for her right now."

Harry nods, and then takes a deep breath, before he answers, with a wary, `Hello'. Ruth moves to go to the bathroom, but Harry reaches out to her, and grasps her hand. He mouths the words, `Please stay. I need you,' and Ruth stays sitting on the bed, while Harry paces in front of her. She can only hear his side of the conversation.

"Now is not good time for me, Lou. …... I know that, but I've been busy... You _what_? …... Please don't include my daughter in this. She has no …... no, of course not. Look, can we leave this until I get back? …... I really can't be thinking about this. …... No, I won't. …... No, I can't. Possibly another week …... right now, I couldn't care less."

Ruth watches him while he listens to Lou speaking for rather a long time, and when Ruth can no longer hear the indignant voice on the other end of Harry's phone, he presses `End Call', and then turns to face Ruth, who is looking at him with such concern and love that it almost brings tears to his eyes.

"She hung up," he says, placing his phone on the bedside table. "She wants a divorce. Whilst that will make things easier for me in the long run – easier for _us_ - she wanted to talk about it now, and I …... can't …... not when I can still taste your skin, and feel the imprint of your touch on my chest."

Ruth smiles at him, and pats the bed beside her, and so he sits, ensuring they are touching one another. Ruth reaches across, and takes his hand in hers, and kisses the backs of his fingers, and moved by her act of trust and forgiveness, Harry leans across and places a soft kiss on her lips.

"Danny keeps in touch with Catherine, and apparently your daughter does not approve of Louisa," Ruth says, aware she is entering territory which is none of her business.

"I know she doesn't. She told me that she considers Lou to be a clone of her mother, and that can only lead to chaos and mayhem." Harry looks into Ruth's eyes before he continues. "Lou wants Catherine to get my things from her house, and take them back to my house. I don't think that's appropriate, although I suspect that if Lou rings her, Catherine will do it willingly, just to get shot of Lou from our lives." He sighs heavily before he continues. "I'm sorry that my relationship disaster has had to impinge on this …... on us. I can honestly say that I wish I'd never married her. I find her to be reactive and emotionally immature, while she called me `distant'. I'm only like that because …... because -"

"You sometimes have a need for solitude."

"Yes." Harry smiles into her eyes, and again he leans towards her, and kisses her. The kiss continues with more passion, until Harry's phone again rings.

"Yes," he barks, expecting the caller to be Louisa. "Danny. Sorry, I was expecting someone else."

Ruth watches him hold the phone to his ear and listen, and then she sees his face change. It is like watching the sky while storm clouds recede, allowing the sun to come out. "You don't know how much that could change things here, Danny. Ruth and I are staying overnight in a hotel in Nicosia …... yes, it was Theo Kyriakou who decided for us …... yes, well, that's for me to know, and you to keep your nose out of my private life... Yes, I'll tell her that. Look, Danny …... you have to ring the Nicosia Divisional Police Headquarters, and tell them what you told me. I don't have the technology on me to deal with this, but they should. …... Yes. Now, if not before."

Harry again ends the call, and places the phone on the bed beside where he sits. He turns to Ruth, and tells her what Danny has just told him.

* * *

Home of Selena and Theo Kyriakou – fifteen minutes later:

Theo notices the change in demeanour of the older Betesh brother. The younger one – Hassan – is a fanatic with a fanatic's staring, shining eyes. For a man like Hassan Betesh, his desire to create mayhem in Western Europe is a religion far more powerful than Islam. Asu seems unsure, and were Hassan not present, Theo is sure he could sway him.

"I have property, and not money. I'm sure you know what I mean by that," Theo says, for what feels to him like the hundredth time. "I cannot help you in the way you want. I am not a bank."

"Shut up! Did you hear that?" Hassan says, lifting his ear towards the front garden. "Keep your gun trained on the capitalist," Hassan tells his brother. "I'm going outside to investigate."

Hassan leaves the room, and Theo takes his chance. He may only have one. "You need to turn on your phone, Asu. You might need it to communicate with the police. They're outside."

"How do you know?"

"I just do." Theo knows no such thing, but the sudden rattle of gunfire, and the sounds of men's voices, tells him that his hunch has been right. It has been unnaturally quiet outside for over a half hour.

"My brother," Asu says, his face stricken.

"You can't let your life be destroyed by him, Asu. You have a wonderful career still ahead of you. Turn on your phone, and then untie me. I need to see to my wife."

"I'm sorry about Selena," Asu mumbles. "We hadn't known she'd be home."

"My daughter was meant to be home, but she went out at the last minute. What would you have done with her?"

Asu shrugs, and with one hand still holding the gun, which he still points shakily at Theo's head, with the other, he delves into his jacket pocket for his phone, and turns it on. No sooner is it on, than his text message tone sounds – not once, but six times. "It's my daughter. Melita. She lives with her mother in Greece." He quickly scrolls through the texts, and as he reads them, tears form in his eyes. "I need to ring her."

He is about to make the call, when his phone rings. "Hello," he says in Greek. "Yes, he's here," and he hands the phone to Kyriakou, who tells the police sergeant in his front yard that things are now under control inside the house.

"Asu Betesh is here with me. He is an employee of mine. We were all being held hostage by his brother, whom you now have, I believe. I need urgent medical attention for my wife. She was hit on the head, but other than that, all is well. Yes. Thank you."

Theo Kyriakou ends the call, and as he is handing the phone back to Asu, it rings again. Noting the name on the display, Asu answers it in Arabic. By the time he hangs up, he is crying, and he has placed the gun on the floor beside him. While Asu has been on the phone, Theo has moved closer to him, and as Asu's hand drops the gun, Theo moves quickly to grab it.

"That was my daughter. Melita. She is in Polis, and has been trying to ring me. She wants to see me, and I want to see her. The man she is with says he'll drive her to Nicosia to see me."

Theo is nodding, but is waiting for the inevitable knock on the door, or voices announcing that the police are ready to enter the property. His own phone has a dead battery, and it seems the home phone has been deactivated from outside.

"Mr Kyriakou," an authoratative voice calls from the other side of the window. "Can you let us in? If you don't, we will have to break a window."

Taking the gun with him, Theo Kyriakou wearily stands, and heads to the front door. He is no longer concerned about Asu Betesh, although he doesn't wish to lose him as laboratory manager. He is a good and thorough worker. As he unlocks the front door, Theo makes a decision to downplay Asu's involvement in the evening's incident. In his opinion, Asu needs a break.


	8. Chapter 8

Nicosia – Cyprus – two and a half hours later:

Harry had sent Ruth to bed with a goodnight kiss, and he has tried to stay awake, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching her sleep. He can't trust himself to join her in bed. He's not sure that it's possible for him to sleep beside her without acting on the powerful feelings for her which he has bottled up for years.

When the detective sergeant at the Police headquarters had rung him, he'd offered to meet the detective at his place of work, knowing that this is what is expected of him.

"Your international secret service operatives and my special forces team are at the scene, and the hostage situation is effectively under control. There is nothing to be gained from you leaving your hotel room, Mr Baxter. I'd suggest you get some sleep."

So Harry had been about to join Ruth in bed – at last – when he'd received another call from Danny.

"I'm driving Asu Betesh's daughter to Nicosia, Harry. I'll need to see you after I deliver her to the police station where they're planning to hold her father. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, maybe a little more."

So, when Danny knocks on their hotel room door, Harry jumps, and looks at the time on his phone. It's almost 2:30 am. He should have gone to bed with Ruth. Harry stretches, and then goes to the door, and opens it, allowing Danny Hunter into the room where Ruth is sleeping soundly.

Danny steps into the room quietly, noting Harry's finger over his lips to indicate he should be quiet.

"We can talk in here, Danny," Harry says, leading the younger man into an alcove just off the bedroom. The only furniture in the alcove is a round table and two chairs, clearly meant as a place where guests can dine in private. The table looks out on the city – still lit up like it's Christmas - through large French doors, closed to keep out the cool evening air.

"I thought it best I keep you up to date, although what has to happen now is out of our hands. Both Kyriakou's wife, and Hassan Betesh are in Nicosia General Hospital. Ironically, given he's nursing two bullet wounds, Betesh is in better shape than Selena Kyriakou. She has a head injury, and has been put in an induced coma, with her body temperature lowered. They won't know anything for at least five days. Theo Kyriakou is fit to spit. Betesh is under armed guard, just in case the locals decide to take justice into their own hands. Theo and Selena are popular figures here."

"Can we be sure about Hassan Betesh being the brains behind the development of a new strain of the _Yersinia Pestis_ bacterium?"

"Not yet, but one thing I am sure about is that Asu Betesh is not directly involved. He only accompanied Hassan to the Kyriakou home out of brotherly loyalty. When I took Mel to see him at the police station, he was calling his brother all the names he could think of …... in Arabic, but I've picked up a few words over the years. It's clear to me he had no idea what Hassan was up to. It seems that Theo Kyriakou is prepared to vouch for him. I told Kyriakou that if we are able to connect Asu to the development of the bacterium strain - even loosely - his support for his laboratory manager will be worthless."

Harry is silent for moment while he thinks about what Danny has told him "I imagine Asu Betesh carries a burden of responsibility about having contributed towards Hassan's politicising when they were young," Harry suggests.

"Yeah …... I suppose so. They grew up without parents. Their father belonged to the Muslim Brotherhood, and was killed in 1982, and their mother simply left one day, and never came home. They lived with an aunt and uncle in Damascus until they were old enough to leave home. Their early life was hardly stable."

"Have you any idea why they took Theo Kyriakou hostage?"

"Yes. At least, when Mel had finished speaking with her father, I spoke to Asu for a few minutes. He told me that his brother was convinced that Kyriakou owed them money – money which the bacterium development project needs in order to complete the development of a vaccine. Forward planning doesn't seem to be a skill of either Asu or Hassan Betesh."

"And for that we can only be thankful," Harry adds, stifling a yawn. "You need to get some sleep," he adds.

"I thought I'd look for a room somewhere, but I can probably sleep in my car until dawn. The night is cool, but not cold." He then hesitates, and looks down at his hands. "Harry," he says, looking up into the eyes of his boss, a man who has become like a father to him, "it's clear you and Ruth have something happening between you, and I don't wish to upset that, but I have a suggestion to make."

Harry says nothing in reply, but juts his jaw slightly in a gesture of challenge ….. with the barest hint of belligerence.

"I can deal with the clean up here," Danny continues, ignoring Harry's posturing, because he knows Harry well enough to know that's what it is. "I …... you need to take a little more time away from London …... with Ruth. I know about you and Louisa. I've been speaking to Catherine, and she …... she tells it like it is. She …."

"Danny, my marriage is none of your business."

"I know, and I don't mean to pry. I just want you to know that when you came back to the hotel two days ago, after having seen Ruth for the first time in two and a half years …... well, that's the happiest I've seen you since she faked her death and had to leave. You've been a downright grump since you got married again. You and Louisa are not suited, and -"

"I know, Danny. Thank you for you interest, and your …..."

"My caring, Harry, because that's what it is. I care about you, and I hate seeing you unhappy."

"Thank you, Danny. I've been thinking along those lines as well. Ruth has another eleven days before she's due back at work, and I don't wish to spend even one of those days working."

"Malcolm, Jo and I can handle the London end of things," Danny says quickly, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Harry's private life. "I'll be interviewing Hassan Betesh as soon as he's considered fit enough, and if I don't get anywhere with him, I'll hand him over to MI-6. I'm reluctant to do that, but at least they'll get results."

"Even if they kill him in the process," Harry muses.

"That is the down side, yes."

As soon as Harry says goodbye to Danny at the door, he heads back to the bed, where Ruth has slept through Danny's visit. He drops his bathrobe over a chair, and crawls into bed beside her. As much as he longs to slide close to her, and wrap his arms around her, he keeps to his side of the bed, and is quickly asleep.

* * *

Harry wakes slowly, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that he is alone in the bed. He quickly sits up and looks around the room. There is no sign of Ruth. He gets out of bed and heads straight to the shower. There will be an explanation for her absence. There has to be.

He steps out of the shower, and wraps himself in one of the luxurious bath towels provided for his and Ruth's use. It is then he hears a knock on the bathroom door, and Ruth calling his name. His heart rate immediately steadies. She hasn't left him after all.

"I'm in here," he calls.

"Are you decent?" she calls back.

"No, Ruth, I'm hopelessly indecent, which is why I need you in here."

Harry regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. Ruth may not see the funny side. She might think him crude, and he couldn't bear that. He closes his eyes as the door opens, and Ruth steps into the bathroom. When he feels her hands on his chest, and then her lips on the wound on his shoulder where Tom Quinn had shot him, he knows all is well. He opens his eyes to see her looking up at him, a slight frown on her face.

"I hope you were dreaming of me," she says, smiling at last.

"Of course. Who else?"

"We have to move quickly, Harry."

"Why?" He is staring at her, still trying to get his head around this elegant woman dressed in last night's clothes, comparing her with her naked body which he had freely (and very happily) explored with his mouth and fingers the night before. Had that really happened?

"It's 9.15, and we're meant to be out of here by 10."

"What? Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you needed to sleep. Now, get your clothes on. We have to leave, and …... the robes and the PJ's? There's an overnight bag for us to take them with us."

Harry smiles at her back as she leaves the bathroom. How had he managed his life without her for the past thirty-one months? Well …... he hadn't, had he? He'd been sad, depressed, morose, angry, and to top all that, he'd made a bad decision by marrying a woman who reminded him of his first wife. Why had he believed that would solve any of the myriad of problems in his personal life?

Harry grabs another towel, and vigorously dries his chest and his legs, finding it impossible to keep the smile from his face.


	9. Chapter 9

Ruth's cottage in Polis – lunchtime, same day:

Ruth has decided that sandwiches are the easiest thing to prepare for their lunch, while Harry is unpacking his bag, and storing his things in her wardrobe and dresser. She feels happy enough to sing, but restrains herself. She and Harry still have a long way to go together before singing will be in order.

They have just finished their sandwiches, and are sitting over a pot of tea, when there is a gentle knock at the side door, just off the utilities room. They look at one another, and Ruth shrugs.

"Do you want me to get it?" Harry suggests.

"No, it will probably be for me," Ruth replies, and as she leaves the kitchen, Harry stands and gathers their used plates and stacks them on the side of the sink.

He can hear Ruth's voice, and the much deeper tones of a man. He hopes – rather desperately, too – that whoever Ruth's visitor is, they will not upset the solitude and – yes – perfection of their idyll here on this island so far from London. He is standing at the sink, running the water, when he hears Ruth's voice from behind him.

"John," she says quietly, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

He turns to see Ruth with a tall, Greek man, and the resemblance of this man to Theo Kyriakou is striking.

"George, this is my partner, John. John, this is Dr George Kyriakou. We met his cousin -"

"Yes, I can see the family resemblance to Theo," Harry says quickly, and after wiping his hands on a tea towel, he offers his hand for George to shake. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Harry adds, maintaining his smile, even though he is not sure about the nature of this man's relationship with Ruth.

"Thank you, but no. I have to get back to work. I only have a short break before operating this afternoon. I was just checking that Ruth was …... alright. I noticed she'd applied for an extra week's leave, and I was …... concerned about her, but I can see she's in safe hands."

Harry is aware of a certain chill in the air between he and this man. It is then he knows that he and George Kyriakou are each in love with the same woman, and for once in his life, Harry is the victor.

"She _is_ in safe hands," he replies confidently.

"Well …... I'd better go."

And Ruth leads the man to the outside door, and he is gone. Harry is still standing beside the table, a wide smile on his face, when Ruth returns.

"You men!" she says, stepping close to him, and encircling him with her arms. He can't help himself. His smile becomes even wider, and he wraps his arms around her, and pulls her against his body. He bends down to kiss the top of her head.

"Did I win that particular showdown, Ruth?"

He feels her gently hit his shoulder with her hand. "Some showdown. I went out with him maybe four times, and he wanted more, so I told him to give me some space while I thought about it. Then you turned up at my door. Hardly a competition, Harry, so this was no showdown. And you can quit the gloating."

Harry pulls away just enough so that he can kiss her. The kiss soon becomes passionate, as he opens his mouth, looking for entry into her own mouth. It is when Harry moans into her mouth that Ruth pulls away from him.

"What?" Harry is confused.

"I don't think now would be the right time for us, Harry. It wouldn't be making love, it'd be a victory dance. There'd be three of us in the bed – you, me, and George."

"He wouldn't be in the bed with us, Ruth, but he might be standing behind the door."

"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're thinking."

"I didn't need to know that, Ruth, but thank you for telling me. I could see he was not at all happy to see me -"

"And you now want to plant your brand on me."

Harry pulls away from her, and sits at the table. He can feel his arousal quickly diminishing, so he picks up his tea, and takes a sip.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. "That was rude and unnecessary. I know how much you care for me." She sits in the chair next to him, and very gently places her hand on his thigh, enjoying the sensation of his muscles moving beneath her fingers. Harry carefully places his cup back on the table.

"I love you, Ruth. I have loved no woman but you for at least the last four years. I wanted to love Louisa, but my heart has belonged to you for so long that there is no room for anyone else. That's about it. I'll wait until tonight if that's what you want."

"I'm not mad at you, Harry. It's just that we don't do _this_ – the relationship side of things – terribly well, and we need to do it better if we're to …... make it together."

Harry nods in agreement. He is aware of his own shortcomings in relationships. After all, he has a string of broken relationships littering his past – both distant and immediate. He also knows that they will need more than sexual compatibility on which to build their future.

"Besides," Ruth continues, "I'm expecting to hear from Malcolm by email, and perhaps Danny will ring you before the day ends."

The Grid – Thames House, London:

Ros Myers has called a meeting for 9 am, and all the senior members of Section D – other than Harry and Danny, of course – are there waiting for her.

"You all know what this is about. I heard from Danny in the early hours. As of today, Harry is taking leave, and will remain in Cyprus for another ten days. He is staying with Ruth Evershed, who went into hiding to save our arses two and a half years ago. At this end, we need to be doing everything we can to clear Ruth's name."

Malcolm speaks up, his voice quiet and respectful. "I have been working on that in my own time, Ros, and I'm handing that job over to …... our new young technical expert. It will be a good exercise for him. I expect him to take no more than two or three days to have it sorted so that Ruth can come home."

"We don't know yet whether she wants to come home, but …..." Ros looks up at Malcolm.

"I think we can assume she will …... especially now."

"And you trust Tariq with this task?"

"He's already better than I am," Malcolm replies. "He just needs time to settle in. He's already suggested some surveillance software which leaves ours for dead."

"Danny is staying on in Cyprus until a breakthrough is made, one way or the other. He and Harry and I are in contact at least once daily."

"As I am with Ruth," Malcolm adds, his quiet voice echoing in the stillness of the meeting room.

Malcolm can feel the end of his career approaching, just as he can sense that Harry and Ruth will have little use for Section D after a time. He is slowly disengaging emotionally, and all he needs is for Harry to return, and he plans to pack it in. No-one presently at the table has a need to know at this stage.

"What do you want me to do?" Jo asks.

"Well, Jo, now you mention it, I have a small task for you." Ros smiles her usual mouth-only smile, as her eyes glint in Jo's direction. The younger woman knows Ros well enough to not be intimidated by her. As Jo figures, Ros is just really crap with people, and she postures and pouts and grimaces and insults others just to keep them at a safe distance. "How's your Arabic?"

"Non-existent, but if I take Ahmed Malouf with me, I have a large man to protect me, and someone who can speak the language."

"Thinking ahead, which is good." Ros looks down at the notes she'd brought with her to the meeting. "I need you to check out all the disused – but still functional - laboratories in London. There are twelve. Here is a list, in order of probability. I suggest that you grab Ahmed, and get cracking."

"What am I looking for exactly?"

"Any signs of recent activity. All the sites on that list have been non-operational for a minimum of five years."

Jo stands, and takes the list from Ros. She'll be glad to get out and about. The Grid is a very weird place without Harry. Jo quite likes Ros as a person, but as a leader, she doesn't appreciate her style.

"Ahmed," she calls, as she passes his desk, "we have a job to do."

MI-6 safe house – Nicosia, Cyprus – 5 pm local time:

"Well, Danny," Andrew Blaby says, as he enters to room, rubbing his hands together, "we've cracked open your chap."

"Which one?" Danny looks up from playing poker with Gerard, another MI-6 agent stationed in Cyprus.

"The older brother. The doctors wouldn't allow us to interview Hassan ….. not for at least another three days. In Asu's case, family was the weak link. I knocked him around a bit, and that didn't work. All I had to suggest was that I fancied his daughter something rotten, and he told us what we needed to know, although to be honest, he doesn't know a lot."

Danny doesn't especially like Blaby. Then again, he doesn't especially like anyone in MI-6. They play the game according to a different code. "I told you Asu's not at the centre of this. What did you find out?" he asks at last.

"I have an address – in south London – where some scientists – and he can't say who, because Hassan doesn't trust him with the information - have been working on a new strain of the Plague. According to Hassan, they have only just cracked the genetic code, and are in the process of performing tests on mice and rats. You'll need more than a couple of MI-5 agents to deal with this. You'll need a crack team. We don't know exactly what we're dealing with."

"But -" Danny begins to protest.

"I'm calling MI-6 in London, and they can send out a team. If your people want to tag along, they can, but they'll need special protective clothing and equipment. Can your people put their hands on that?"

"I'm afraid not," Danny says, feeling mildly embarrassed.

"Well, call your people off, and let us deal with it. You'd best tell your boss as well."

The market – Polis, Cyprus:

When Harry receives the call from Danny about the proposed MI-6 raid on a laboratory in south London, he and Ruth are shopping, stocking up on food for the next few days, since he has no intention of leaving the house for the forseeable future.

"Alright, Danny, it looks like we've been pipped at the post with this one, but I'd like you to stay on, at least until Hassan Betesh is questioned. I need you to be there along with MI-6, just to keep an eye on things."

"Harry, how many times in the past three years have we done the groundwork, while MI-6 clunkheads then move in and sweep up, and then take the credit for the whole job?"

"It's called team work …... the secret service working together for the same outcome," Harry replies, his eyes on Ruth as she argues with Helena over some avocados. Both women are smiling, so he gathers that this is a form of haggling, and that both women enjoy it immensely. "I'll let Ruth know, but you should be the one to contact Ros about this."

"I already have. She's furious. I'm glad I'm here. I don't trust Blaby."

"Oh, and Danny …..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for taking over the way you did."

"That's fine. I enjoyed the challenge, which is why I'm so annoyed now. I feel like someone stole all my Christmas presents."

Harry laughs lightly as he ends the call. Things are turning out well, after all. The perpetrators are about to be caught, Danny is flying back to London after the questioning in Nicosia , and he and Ruth still have ten days in which to …... enjoy each other's company. He is counting down the hours until bedtime. He has waited four years for this night.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:** **This chapter drifts towards M territory.**_

* * *

Ruth's cottage – Polis, Cyprus – early evening:

The weather has turned warm, and so after dinner, Ruth suggests that they take their wine glasses and bottle of white wine across the road, and through the bushes to the beach, where the waves lap delicately on the sand. They each remove their shoes, and they sit on the sand, close to the water's edge, their shoulders touching. They sit in comfortable silence for some minutes before Ruth speaks,

"I've been thinking about what you've told me about the situation in Nicosia."

"Situation?"

"You know what I mean. The protagonists. We think the kingpin is Theo Kyriakou, and then find that it can't be him, so we suspect Asu Betesh. Then we find out it's not him, and his brother comes out of the woodwork as a fanatic. What about Melita? Asu's daughter. What about her? Has anyone looked into her background? We know she grew up with her mother in Athens, but we know little else. It's just a hunch, Harry, but …... you know my hunches."

Harry doesn't have to ask questions. He is already waking up his phone, and scrolling through the list of contacts. "Danny," Ruth hears him say, "I have another job for you."

Ruth shuts out his conversation with Danny. After all, they are both meant to be on leave.

"He won't ring you back, will he?" she asks Harry, once his call is finished, and he has once again slid his phone into the pocket of his shorts. "We need our privacy."

Harry smiles at her. The only light source available to them is from the moon, and its reflected light off the surface of the water shines into his dark eyes as he watches her. "I told him to contact Ros or Malcolm, and get them to do the research, and then I told him that I'm turning off my phone."

Ruth's eyes widen. "And are you?"

"For tonight, most definitely."

They are sitting close, smiling into one another's eyes, when they hear laughing and loud voices from further down the beach. They both turn to see a group of young people – perhaps six of them – running across the sand towards the water. Although the group of people is almost two hundred yards away, it is clear they are all naked.

"What a good idea," Ruth whispers, her face close to Harry's. "Why don't we do that, too?"

"Are you serious, Ruth?"

"Never more," she says, as she pulls away from Harry, stands up, and begins undoing the buttons on her skirt. "Come on," she says to him, "you have to join me."

"We didn't bring any towels," he complains.

"So what? It's a warm night."

In no time at all, Ruth has stripped down to her pants, and she is standing beside him, reaching out to him with her hand. "If you're shy, I'll help you with getting your clothes off. Besides, I've seen most of you, and what I didn't see, I've ... felt."

Rather reluctantly, Harry gets to his feet, and no sooner does he than Ruth has lifted his shirt over his head, and then has her fingers on his belt, which she opens in one swift move. It is when her fingers are on the zipper of his shorts that Harry grasps her hands and pulls them away.

"If you keep doing that," he says, "our first time will be on the sand in full view of six other people."

"Don't tell me you're shy, Harry, because I don't believe that," and she turns away from him, and wades through the shallows until the water almost reaches her waist.

By this time, Harry has stripped to his trunks, and he very carefully follows her. The water, while not too chilled, is still cold on his genitals, and he takes his time before he reaches her side.

"Nice, isn't it?" Ruth smiles up at him.

"I hope you don't consider this to be foreplay, Ruth, because it's closer to pain than to pleasure."

He reaches out to her, and pulls her against him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. His body is warming up, and the sensation of her soft breasts against his chest is worth the price of a moment's discomfort. They stand in the water with their arms around each other, enjoying the simplicity of being together in this way. Ruth turns her head so that she can place soft, slow kisses on the skin of his chest, and then she leans up to meet his mouth in a deep and lasting kiss. Her hands move from his back to his buttocks, while his hands move to her front, where he caresses her breasts, pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Ruth feels him swelling against her abdomen, and so she very slowly moves her hands around to the front of his body, and slides her fingers under the waistband of his underwear until she touches hardening flesh, and Harry breathes in quickly, pulling away from her a little, and then sighing contentedly with the gentle touch of her fingers on his most sensitive of skin.

"Ruth," he says, removing his hands from her breasts, and sliding them around her waist, "do you want our first time to be on the beach?"

"I can think of worse places."

"Such as?"

"The kitchen. On top of the washer. On the floor in the utilities room."

"I imagine the kitchen table would be out of the question."

"A bed would be nice," she says, but is interrupted by cries from the group further down the beach, as one of the girls rattles out a long sentence in Greek. "Apparently we've been beaten to it," Ruth says.

"Beaten to what?"

"Sex on the beach."

They disengage, and turn, seeing a couple on the sand, clearly engaged in the sex act, the man's grunts audible from where they still stand in almost waist-deep water.

"Not terribly elegant is it?" Ruth offers.

"No, it's not, Ruth. Making love is best done in private." Harry smiles down at her."Do you know them?"

Ruth shakes her head. "Locals would never behave like that in public. They're tourists."

"I think we need to go inside," he says quietly.

Milkwood Road, Camberwell, South London – just before 5 pm:

"Shall you call it in, or will I?" Ahmed says, settling into the drivers seat.

"I'll do it. This is clearly a job for more than just you and me."

Pretending to have the wrong address, Jo had backed away as soon as she'd noticed the guards by the door. They did not look like security people. Both men were dark haired, and dressed in jeans, trainers and sweat tops, but she recognised the deadened expressions of men who are on a job.

"I saw three people inside," Ahmed continues, as he starts the car, and pulls out from the kerb. "Two women and a man. All of non-English appearance. If I had to take a punt, I'd say the women were mother and daughter, both of Mediterranean heritage. The man also appears Mediterranean, which upsets some theories which have been flying around Thames House about the Betesh brothers."

"Did you take photos?"

"I hadn't time. You'd better call it in, Jo. I think I was seen."

Jo opens her phone, and presses the second number on her speed dial, and speaks to Ros, while Ahmed speeds along Milkwood Road, in the direction of the Thames.

The Grid, Harry's office - Thames House – 5.28 pm:

Ros Myers sits in Harry's chair behind his desk. Up until now, she has resisted the pull of his office, but in enjoying the level of operational responsibility required of her, she is rather enjoying some of the perks of the job. She also recognises she would be happy for Harry and Ruth to both announce their retirement, and declare that they are planning to settle down in Cyprus, although she knows that is unlikely. It will take more than a woman to get Harry away from Thames House, although were there a woman capable of tempting him away, that woman would be Ruth. Louisa Shepherd is a lightweight compared with Ruth.

"Where's Lucas?" she asks of no-one in particular.

"He was in the area, so he's joining the crack squad," Tariq says, hoping that Ros won't notice him. He's still rather afraid of her, and doesn't know how to respond when she sets her gaze on him, and rattles off questions, expecting him to come up with answers.

"Right," Ros says, moving on quickly. "Malcolm, can you work the mouse which operates Harry's computer?"

Malcolm leans across the desk, and takes the mouse and mouse pad from Ros, and suddenly a series of head shots appears on the screen of the monitor, turned so that the three of them have a clear view. "I've identified all except the older woman, but Jo has rung in to report that Ahmed believes her to be the mother of Melita Elias."

"So," Ros continues, "Melita and her mother …..."

"Gia Elias. She met Asu Betesh while at King's College, here in London. She knew she was pregnant before she left London to return to Greece, but didn't tell Asu. He only found out a few years ago that he had a daughter, and since then, the two of them became very close." Malcolm looks across the table at Ros, and seeing her nod, he continues. "At first, it seemed that the political drive to make something which could destroy millions of lives had came from her parents. Melita is young and passionate …... as well as brilliant. The problem with this theory is that she didn't know Asu until three years ago, as she was about to turn 18. It seems that she has had a father figure in her life all along …... and that has been Hassan Betesh – her uncle. There is quite a lot of CCTV footage from both London and Athens of Gia Elias – Melita's mother – and Hassan together. It appears that they have been in a relationship – a secret one – since Melita was around the age of 9."

"Gia and Melita are very close," Tariq continues, "and they are comfortable working together. The passion for destruction has come from Hassan, who influenced Gia, and in turn, both of them groomed Melita to be their protégé. In turn, Melita has been trying to turn Asu – her father – but he is happy with his life these days. He has a stable job, and Theo Kyriakou pays him very well. It seems that age has dimmed the fires of his political passion."

Ros sits back in her chair – Harry's chair – and squints slightly at the screen. "Jo called in when she and Ahmed found the laboratory where the work on the Plague bacterium is being carried out. She said there were three people inside – two women who appeared to be mother and daughter, and a man of Greek appearance. We know that Melita and Gia would be the mother and daughter. Danny has already told us that Melita left Cyprus this morning. Who is the man? Both Betesh brothers are still in Nicosia, and Hassan is not due to be released from hospital in Nicosia for several days, so it can't be him."

"I have an idea," Malcolm says quietly.

"Who, then?" Ros asks, turning her chair around so that she can eyeball Malcolm.

"You have to think of someone who is clever, but not brilliant, and has been overlooked by a more brilliant, more notable relative."

"That could be anyone of us, Malcolm. Forget twenty questions. Who is that bloody man in the laboratory in Camberwell?"


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Thank you all for still reading this, and to the reviewers also.**_

* * *

Harry's office, The Grid – Thames House – 5.51 pm:

Ros's feline eyes, and Tariq's wide brown pools are both trained on Malcolm, who hadn't planned to tease the others in this way. It's just that, if he's leaving his job any time soon, he'll have little opportunity for showing off his skills, which is what he is now doing. Not even Tariq knows what it is he knows.

"I searched the birth records of all three families – the Elias's, the Betesh's, and lastly, the Kyriakou family. On first search, there was nothing, and then only in the second time through, I found birth records for a Yannis Pavlou, born in 1964. His mother is Elina Pavlou, and from early in 1960 until just before her son was born in September 1964, she worked as a domestic helper in the home of Theo Kyriakou's parents. Although Elina's son was given her surname, his birth certificate states clearly that his father was Thomas Kyriakou – the father of Theo Kyriakou."

"Isn't that something of a long shot, Malcolm?" Ros says, clearly wondering why this news of some little Greek Cypriot bastard born in the 60's is so important.

"Not when you look at the history of this child – now a man of 44. He would have guessed quite early on who was his father, and he watched as his half-brother received all the breaks – education, opportunities, and most importantly, fatherly love."

"So, how did this poor fatherless child become a terrorist?"

"He worked in his father's store in Polis, and when he was old enough, with enough money behind him, he left Cyprus for London – in the late summer of 1982 – and got himself an education."

"Majoring in what?"

"His first degree was in electrical engineering, and later he transferred to genetics, and that's where he teamed up with Asu Betesh and his brother, and he also met Melita Elias' mother. They were cooking up their schemes as early as 1987."

"Surely this Yannis fellow would have run into his half-brother whilst in London?"

"Perhaps. There is only clear evidence that he spent time with Asu, Hassan and Gia. After all, it was only Asu who studied biochemistry, and so was tutored by Theo."

The phone on the desk rings, and Ros picks it up, and answers with a `What?' She then listens, says, "I'll tell them," and then hangs up. She sits with her hands folded on the desk in front of her, her expression unreadable. "That was Lucas," she says. "He rang to tell me that CO-19 have raided the laboratory, and arrested three people – Melita Elias, Gia Elias, and lastly, Yannis Pavlou, which means I owe you an apology, Malcolm." Ros looks directly at Malcolm, who smiles back at her. "None of the three are talking, other than to give their names. Lucas is about to have a long night. The very best thing is that the bacterium samples are all there, and as we speak, a team from Porton Down is travelling to London to collect it all."

"Should we be afraid?"

Ros glares at Tariq, and the younger man wishes he could dissolve into the atmosphere, leaving no trace he was ever there.

"Only of our own potential for stupidity, Tariq. Once the scientists at Porton Down have it, they'll freeze it in liquid nitrogen, or whatever, and hopefully, we can all get on with our lives. We have to trust that none of the scientists in our Wiltshire facility go postal on us, and decide they'd prefer the world with less people in it."

"And the two brothers in Cyprus?" Malcolm asks.

"As of my last communication with him, Danny has decided to accompany them to London, but he has to wait until Hassan is well enough to fly, and for a couple of MI-6 goons in Cyprus to have washed their hair, or whatever it is they do before they get on a plane. MI-6 in London is offering to deal with it, which fills me with little confidence, but we struggle to manage two terrorists at Thames House, let alone five."

"And now?" Tariq asks, his voice changing tone like he's twelve and his voice is all over the place.

"We get on with the next thing on our ever-lengthening list of terror alerts and threats. We don't pat ourselves on the back, and we don't take time out."

"Unlike Harry," Tariq says without thinking.

"Harry needs a break, Tariq," Malcolm says quietly. "He has earned his few days away."

"He'll be away for more than a few days."

"Do you miss Harry, Tariq?" Ros asks, her expression one of her having reached the end of her rather lengthy tether.

"I do. I like him," Tariq admits quietly.

"Then you're a fan club of only one," Ros says.

"Er …... two," Malcolm says quietly, "and three if you include me."

Ros lifts her eyes towards the ceiling, and shows both men to the door. "Too bad you're stuck with me, then," she says, as she sees them out of Harry's office, and then closes the door behind them, but not before Malcolm has the last word.

"Only for another nine days, Rosalind," he says as he passes her on his way out.

Ruth's cottage – Polis, Cyprus – two and a half hours later:

"Do you want me to check all the doors, Ruth?" Harry asks, suddenly rather nervous.

"If you like," Ruth replies, smiling at his back, as he heads towards the door at the side of the cottage, while she turns towards her bedroom.

Ruth waits in bed while Harry checks the doors, and then she hears the toilet flushing, followed by the shower running. She had showered as soon as they got back from the beach, while Harry had made them a cup of tea, and a light snack of bread and cheese. For a couple of mature adults who yearn for one another, they certainly have a strange way of showing it.

At last, she sees his silhouette in the doorway, which soon disappears as he closes the door behind him.

"I trust you want me in here, Ruth …... with you."

"If you'd gone to any other room, I'd have had to hunt you down, and drag you back here."

Ruth can see his teeth as he smiles into the darkness. "Fortunately, no hunting will be required."

She watches him as he removes his bathrobe, revealing him wearing only a fresh pair of white trunks. He'd been wearing black trunks while they stood in the water earlier. Even though the only lighting in the room is from the moon through the window, Ruth can still see clearly the shape of Harry's body, and even the shape of him inside his trunks. Just in case he is not sure of her intention for this evening, Ruth folds back to duvet on his side of the bed, and pats the mattress where she wants his back to rest beside her.

Harry slowly approaches the bed, and sits on the edge, before turning towards her, and slipping his legs under the duvet. He lies on his back, and Ruth thinks it's the most uncomfortable she's ever seen him.

"Harry," she says quietly, leaning over him, so that her face is close to his own, "we've waited for this moment for …..."

"A really long time."

"Yes. How long is it since Fiona died?"

Harry hesitates while he works out the significance of that moment in their shared history. "Over four years. Was in then for you, too?"

"Her funeral. When you sat next to me. I felt so safe with you beside me, and yet all I could think about was how Adam and Wes must be feeling, and how I couldn't bear it were you to end up that way …... in a casket at the front of a church, with your loved ones openly grieving."

"I was thinking something similar," he murmurs, reaching up to cup her face with his hand. "It was that day that I made a decision to, where possible, have you close to me whenever I was at work. That way, I'd be less likely to lose you to some fanatic with a gun. As I discovered, keeping you close to me doesn't always work in our favour."

Ruth reaches down and kisses his lips, a soft and tentative kiss. Kissing Harry while in bed beside him is a whole different ball game to kissing him while they're standing semi-naked in the shallows. He rolls towards her, and one of his arms slides around her as he pulls her closer, his body pressing against hers. Harry removes his other hand from her face, and slides it under the hem of her nightie, grasping the back of her thigh with his palm. It is only when he slowly slides this hand upwards towards her buttocks, that he finds she is wearing _only_ a nightie and nothing else. He pulls away from the kiss, and looks at her.

"You forgot to put on any underwear, Ruth."

She smiles slowly, and runs her finger down his chest until it reaches the waistband of his trunks. "I didn't forget anything," she says. "Nothing at all."

Their mouths come together in a kiss of increasing passion, as Ruth's fingers slide beneath the waistband of his underwear until she touches his arousal, and Harry's fingers seek the heat between her legs. Were anyone standing in the shadows outside their bedroom window, they'd clearly hear low moaning from the throats of two people who are about to come together for the first time.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: This strays slightly into M rating, but only briefly.  
**_

* * *

Ruth's cottage, Polis – that same night, a little while later:

Harry rolls on to his side, his arms around his lover, so that she rolls with him. He is still inside her, and he doesn't wish to break their intimate contact.

"Are you alright?" he whispers at last, his mouth close to Ruth's ear.

Worryingly for him, it takes a few seconds before she answers. "Never better," she says, and Harry laughs lightly against the sweat-soaked skin of her neck.

When Ruth says nothing more, he pulls his head back so that he can see her face, noting her closed eyes giving the appearance of her being asleep.

"Ruth," he says, much louder than he'd intended.

"Mmmm?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but -"

"Harry, we've just made love," she mumbles, her eyes still closed. "The whole event was rather disturbing."

"What? Didn't you like it?" He pulls his body away so that he slides out of her, hoping he'll not `disturb' her any longer.

With him no longer inside her, Ruth's eyes open suddenly, and she looks at him with a shocked expression. "Why did you pull out, Harry? I was enjoying that. I …... very much enjoyed the whole thing. I thought you could tell."

He smiles again, his confidence restored. "Sorry. I thought I was bothering you …... by still being inside you."

"If I thought it at all possible, I'd say, `put that back inside me at once', but I guess I'll have to wait until next time."

Ruth smiles into his eyes, and he places a light kiss on her mouth. "To be honest, it feels rather sensitive afterwards – right on the end of it - so I can only stay inside you if neither of us moves."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ruth watches his face for some time, as he rolls away from her slightly, and lays on his side facing her, his head on his pillow. "You know I love you, don't you, Harry?"

Harry's pupils widen. "If I hadn't known it before, I do now," he whispers.

Harry reaches out under the duvet to grasp Ruth's hand, squeezing it before he again settles against his pillow. It's been quite a day, and he is in need of sleep. He is an the edge of sleep when Ruth again speaks.

"Harry …... why would highly intelligent and presumably rational people want to make a biological agent which has the potential to take so many innocent lives?" She releases his hand, and turns on her side to face him. "I mean …... the bulk of the casualties will be among the very young and the very old …... and the already sick."

By the time she has finished speaking, Harry's eyes are open, and he is looking into her face, the lines of worry deep between her eyes. He sighs heavily. He is hardly in a fit state to be discussing this. His body feels weightless, his muscles liquid, his mind occupied by thoughts of her – naked, panting, crying out in passion beneath him as her muscles contracted around him.

"Well …... first up, I doubt the people who developed the bacterium intend being the ones to use it. They'll sell it to the highest bidder …... but not until they've developed a vaccine for the bacterial strain. Until they do that, the bacterium is dangerous to everyone, including those who created it."

"Do you think that the people who made it – whoever it turns out to be – have really thought about the consequences of their work?"

"I'm sure they have. When people engage in this kind of thing, they twist their personal ethics to accommodate desired outcomes. It's what people do."

"I hate the way people do such terrible things just for money," Ruth muses. "I mean, just think about it. What if tonight you and I have conceived a child, then this child might be in danger -"

"Ruth …... just rewind a little. What do you mean by `conceived a child'?"

"We couldn't have, of course. I took care of that two days ago when I went into Polis to buy the dress I wore to the dinner. I went to the GP at the clinic in town, and had one of those internal thingies put in." She looks into his eyes, and sees the concern there. "You thought I meant that about conceiving, didn't you?" When Harry nods, she continues. "Would it be such a disaster if that happened? Of course, if we ended up with a new strain of the plague, it wouldn't be good at all."

"It wouldn't be a disaster, Ruth, but it might be too soon for us. We need to …... get used to being together first."

Ruth nods and smiles, and reaches across and places a gentle kiss on Harry's lips, and using the last of his available energy, Harry winds an arm around her, and returns the kiss. "I love you," he says as he slowly pulls away, this time lying on his back, his head sinking into the pillow.

"You'd better stop with the nattering, Harry, if we're to get any sleep," she says, nestling against his shoulder.

Harry is about to question her accusation – of him being the natterer – but he is so happy, and so exhausted, that he has no words left. They both close their eyes, and are asleep within minutes.

Ruth's cottage, Polis – next morning:

Harry showers and dresses and heads to the kitchen, where he turns on his phone to find that it is almost 9.30. Just like the previous morning, Ruth is nowhere to be seen, but this time he feels confident that she is somewhere not far away, and will soon be returning to the cottage.

Harry is still listening to the three voicemail message left by his daughter, when he hears the side door to the cottage open, and within seconds, he feels Ruth's arms around him, as she presses herself against his back.

'Good morning, sleepyhead," she says, her mouth against his shoulder blade.

Harry turns in her arms, and they engage in a proper good morning snog. He moves to pull away from her, but she is rubbing her cheek against his, her hand cupping his jaw so that he daren't move.

"What is it?" he whispers.

"Your cheek is so smooth. You must have shaved."

"I'm sorry I didn't shave last night before …... I completely forgot."

Ruth pulls away from him, and smiles into his eyes. "I rather liked your stubble," she says cheekily. "I found it rather …... stimulating, especially when …..."

They each smile into the eyes of the other, remembering their foreplay from the night before, when his phone rings.

"It's Catherine," he says, checking the phone's display. "I'd better take this."

Ruth busies herself with making tea, while Harry takes his phone out on to the porch at the side of the house. Through the kitchen window, Ruth can see him walking up and down just off the edge of the porch, his face a picture of concentration. Whatever his daughter is telling him, it is not making him happy. Once the tea is made, Ruth wakes up the laptop to find three emails from Malcolm, informing her of the developments in London. She is relieved that Malcolm has the sensitivity to not bother Harry with this. Ruth suspects Harry has enough on his plate, with his messy separation from his wife, and his newly forming relationship with her.

When Harry re-enters the kitchen, he sighs heavily as he sits at the table across from Ruth, and picks up his cup of tea.

"Toast?" Ruth asks, turning in her chair, about to head towards the toaster.

"Yes please."

As Ruth makes the toast, she summarises the content of Malcolm's emails for Harry. "There's nothing more to be done. Malcolm says that Six are handling the interrogation, and a report will eventually land on your desk."

Harry nods, and it is clear to Ruth that he is distracted. She places the toast on the table, along with butter and jam, honey and Marmite.

"You bought that here?" he asks her, indicating the Marmite.

"I'm told it's available all over the island. There are so many British expats that a lot of our products are sold here."

Harry butters a slice of toast, and adds strawberry jam. He then slices the toast in halves diagonally, and eats. Ruth takes her time with buttering, adding jam on one slice, and Marmite on another. She looks up at Harry, waiting for him to talk, but he seems preoccupied. This is a Harry she knows well. On the Grid, he would often worry so much over decisions only he could make, that he appeared to lose sight of the fact that he had others around him to help him deal with the most difficult decisions. It is not until they have eaten two slices of toast each that Harry again speaks, but first, he pours them each another cup of tea.

"I feel really awful, Ruth."

"Why?"

"I'm bringing my domestic dramas into …... this." He looks around the room, and then at her. "What we have feels so …... peaceful ….. and right …... and now I'm about to taint it with my own messy story."

"I'd prefer to hear about it now rather than later."

Harry sighs heavily, looking down into his tea cup, like the answer to everything which troubles him just may be at the bottom of his cup.

"Harry …... I'm in this with you. You can tell me anything, and conversely, I hope that I can confide in you."

Recognising the logic in her words, Harry nods, swallows a mouthful of tea, and then places his cup carefully in its saucer. "It's Louisa. She's had Catherine traveling back and forth between the house we lived in together, and my house. The trouble this time is when Catherine – at my suggestion – went to Lou's house a couple of nights ago, specifically to collect all my suits …... the ones I wear for work, Louisa wouldn't give them to her. She says I have to be man enough to get them myself. Now, I have no problem with that, but my daughter has been insulted about me every time she's been there to collect something of mine, and I …..."

"You feel bad about it."

"Yes," he says, his voice soft, like all the wind has left him. "First, Lou says she doesn't want to set eyes on me again, and now she wants me to go there in person to get my suits."

"We can sort it out when we get back to London, Harry."

"We?"

"Of course. I'm not letting you go home without me."

Harry nods slowly. "I wanted to keep you out of all this, Ruth, but …... Catherine told me something else …... Without meaning to, she …..."

"Catherine told Louisa about me?"

Harry nods. "I mentioned to Catherine that I was with you. I'd told her all about you after you left London. That's why she's been trying to get me on the phone. She feels terrible, and she's afraid that, armed with that information, Louisa might …..."

"She might take me on? Insult me? Tell me what sort of a husband you've been?"

"All of the above."

"Then you underestimate me."

They sit in silence for a few moments, and then Harry is worried when Ruth suddenly gets up from the table, and heads down the hallway to her bedroom …... _their_ bedroom. He need not have worried. Within the space of a few minutes, she returns, sits back in her chair, and smiles at him across the table.

"I must be the luckiest woman in the world. Not only are you handy in the kitchen, and rather fine in bed, but when you left it, you took the time to make the bed."

For the first time since his phone conversation with his daughter, Ruth and Harry exchange wide smiles across the table.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Bit M-ish in places. Penultimate chapter.  
**_

* * *

Harry's house, London – 9 days later – mid afternoon:

When the front door knocker sounds, Ruth almost ignores it, then her natural curiosity wins. The previous evening, she and Catherine had spoken on the phone, and each woman is keen to meet the other. Perhaps Catherine has jumped the gun, and wants to meet her alone, while Harry is at work.

Ruth opens the door to a woman much too old to be Harry's daughter. This woman is somewhere in age between she and Harry – late forties, smartly dressed, her honey blond hair pulled back with a wide black clip, her body draped in a body-hugging dark grey dress, over which she wears a black woollen coat.

So …... this must be Louisa, and this woman is either very brave, or very foolish.

Ruth stands with the door open, and looks the woman in the eye. Louisa is a little taller than Ruth, and to give credit to Harry's tastes in women, she is attractive and elegant.

"You must be …... Catherine told me your name, but it's slipped my mind," the woman says.

"You have no need to know my name. What do you want?"

Louisa stands her ground, and looks Ruth up and down. Ruth has been tidying the bedroom which she and Harry share. He had kept a lot of her things, after having removed some books and clothes from her house after she'd left London, and she has been going through them, remembering her life before she had to go into exile, and she is neither dressed for, or in the mood for entertaining Harry's estranged wife. Ruth is surprised that she feels no jealousy, no envy, no surge of anger over Harry's association with this woman. After all, he has made it clear _she_ is the one he has chosen over her.

"You'd better hurry up and speak, Louisa. I'm just about to slam this door in your face."

"Right. Harry has chosen someone with backbone over beauty."

"And again, what is it you want?" Ruth really is feeling intense irritation. She still has four boxes of books to go through.

Louisa suddenly appears not so sure of herself, and she steps back a little, and points in the direction of the car parked on the street outside the house. "I have Harry's suits in the car. I know I asked him to pick them up in person, but …... Shall I bring them in?"

"If you get them, and hand them to me, I'll transfer them inside," Ruth replies.

In the end, Louisa takes three trips to her car and back to the house, and hands Ruth seven work suits of Harry's.

"That's the lot, then," Louisa says, as she hands the last two suits to Ruth, who is still standing in the doorway, guarding the house she is sharing with Harry.

"Thank you," Ruth says, stepping back into the house. "I'll let Harry know he has no reason to visit your house again," and then she quickly closes the door.

Ruth has hung four suits on the hat rack inside the door, but the remaining three are draped over a chair in the hallway. She stands still for a moment, and takes a few breaths to steady herself. With only the occasional insult between them, and no bloodletting, Ruth considers that her confrontation with Louisa Shepherd went rather well, but she has to let Harry know. She finds her phone on the kitchen table, and after making herself a cup of tea, she rings Harry at work.

"Is everything alright, Ruth?" Harry sounds concerned.

"It is now. I've just had a visitor," and she tells him of her visit from Louisa.

Harry's first reaction is anger, and he announces his intention to ring Louisa and give her a tongue lashing.

"Harry …... please don't. It's not worth it. I believe she came here in person to intimidate me, otherwise why would she turn up when she knows you'd be at work?"

"I'm really sorry, Ruth."

"She didn't intimidate me, Harry. She backed down rather easily."

"But I thought she wanted out of the marriage." Harry sounds perplexed. "Were that true, why would she try to intimidate you? Shouldn't she be thanking you for taking me off your hands?"

"My theory is that she wants to leave having had the last word. No woman wants to give up without a fight. After all, it was _she_ who wanted to marry _you_."

"Honestly …... I never did fully understand her."

"And I am far less complicated."

"On the contrary, Ruth. You are far more complicated, but in a way which is interesting, intelligent, and even sexy." Harry's voice is almost a whisper, a concession to his being a work.

Ruth laughs lightly into the phone, and when she hears Ros Myers' voice in the background, she quickly adds her own suggestion. "You have to go and see her, Harry. Whether you want to or not, the right thing for you to do is to end your marriage with her face to face."

"I know," he says quietly, and Ruth can barely hear him over the voices if Ros Myers and Malcolm, arguing in the background.

"Do it tonight …... after work."

Harry sighs heavily. "You're right ... as usual."

* * *

Four days later, Harry has spent a full week back on the Grid, and Ruth has spent the last three days adjusting to doing her old job, her old identity having been (somewhat miraculously) restored. They share a take away Indian meal, and while Harry tidies the kitchen, Ruth heads upstairs to run a bath for them both.

They both know what this is about. It is five days since they last made love, and they both need to relax and unwind. The past two days have been spent following up the Turkish family who lived in the house where the original store of the plague bacterium had been found. Ruth and Danny have been given the task of connecting the family with the bacterium, and what she has come up with has had Danny and two junior officers busily following a Turkish connection, which they have not yet fully unraveled.

As well as the usual stresses of work, Harry's visit to Louisa had been rather illuminating. Louisa had confessed to Harry that she'd been having an affair with her property manager, a man ten years her junior.

"And you didn't know?" Ruth had asked him, as they ate dinner in the kitchen.

"I work long hours. She had plenty of time during the day, and many evenings in which to conduct a private life, and she communicates with this man daily. He's married, so I hadn't even thought she'd be interested in him in that way. She hired him about a month after we were married, and she said it only became sexual a few weeks ago, but I have my suspicions."

"You didn't notice her …... lose interest in you?"

"No, but then, I wouldn't have. There were many nights I came home so tired and distracted that all I could do was eat, and then fall into bed. I was probably a disappointment to her, because I often had little energy for even a conversation with her."

"And Catherine didn't suspect?"

"I haven't spoken to Catherine about it. She'd probably keep it to herself were she to have had suspicions. She's my daughter, not my friend."

Ruth had contemplated those words. She briefly put herself in Catherine's place – as a daughter – and only then did she see the awkward situation Catherine would have been in had she known. "So ….. why had Louisa been so keen for you to get married in the first place?" she then asked.

"Apart from my devastating charm and handsome face?" Harry had smiled at Ruth, who lifted her eyebrows as she returned his smile. "I think she liked the idea of being married to a knight of the realm. Perhaps it made her feel safe. `The reality was rather more dull than the illusion', were her words. Are you prepared for spending your life with a dull man, Ruth?"

Ruth had rolled her eyes. "You may be a lot of things, Harry, but dull isn't one of them," she'd replied.

That had been four nights earlier.

Ruth heads to the bedroom to undress, while Harry climbs into the bath.

"I thought we were sharing the bath, Ruth," he calls to her.

"We are."

He looks up to see her standing beside the bath, and he stares at her body in wonder as she drops her robe to the floor. She indicates to him that he should lean forward, while she slides into the water behind him.

"You require pampering," she whispers into his ear, as she slides her hands around his chest, and pulls him back against her. His heavy sigh of contentment is all the answer she needs. "Before I forget," she says, "you received a text message. I heard it while I was undressing."

"You could have read it."

"It's your phone, Harry, and I didn't want to make any assumptions about reading your texts."

Harry again sighs, but this time, it is because Ruth has poured bath gel on to her palms, and is rubbing it over his shoulders and neck. Then she slides her hands around so that she can soap his chest and stomach, and the inevitable happens, and her hands are massaging him gently and slowly, and he is swelling in her hands, so that all he can think of doing is turning his body and plunging into her. But he restrains himself, because he knows the wait will be worth it. Ruth then slides her hands down his inner thighs as far as she can reach. When Ruth feels his fingers reaching between them, and sliding between her legs, she pulls his hand away.

"This is for you, Harry. I propose that, pending national emergencies, we spend every Friday night together in the bath."

"I like that idea, Ruth. Even if we've been a bit distant with each other, this is a fine way to …..." and he groans as she again takes him in her hand, and slides her fingers along his length.

Ruth is first to leave the bath, and she quickly dries herself, and again puts on her bathrobe. When Harry steps from the bath, she takes a fresh towel, and dries him, while trying to stop his hands from wandering inside her bathrobe.

"_Ru-uth_," he says at last, his voice pleading.

"Bedroom," she says, letting the towel drop to the floor.

Ruth allows her bathrobe to slide off her shoulders before she climbs under the duvet, while Harry walks into the room naked. He is still half hard, and he seeks out her eyes with his own. He slides under the duvet, and walks his fingers from her calf all the way up her leg until he buries them between her legs, at the same time as he kisses her deeply.

Despite their intention to take their time, there is only a short time between them getting into bed together, and them moving together against the pillows. They are moving faster, and breathing heavier, their eyes locked, when Harry's text message tone again sounds.

"Leave it," he gasps, "this is more important."

And it is.

Fifteen minutes later, when they are lying together in peaceful semi-slumber, Harry's phone rings.

"Someone really wants to speak to you, Harry."

"It had better not be the Grid, and it had better not be Lou. I'll throw the phone into the bath if it's either."

Harry pulls away from Ruth, and leans across to get his phone.

"Yes?" he says in his I'm-not-wanting-this-phone-call voice. "Catherine. No, we were …... busy. What time is it? …... Really? Is that all? …... Sure. Give us a half hour or so to …... No, we were in the bath. It's been a busy first week back, and we were winding down. …... I'm intrigued. Yes, I'll tell her. Bye."

"You just told your daughter we were sharing a bath."

"I'm sure she'll cope, Ruth."

"But she may be left with some mental images she can't erase." Ruth sighs heavily. "Don't tell me we're going out," interpreting his end of the conversation in her own way.

"No. We have to get up and get dressed. Did you realise it's only 8.30?" Ruth shakes her head, still not convinced. "Catherine wants to pop around. She said it's only for a short visit. She's bringing a surprise with her."

"So long as it's not Louisa," Ruth says. "I've seen quite enough of her."

Harry turns to kiss her briefly before he rolls out of bed. "At least she didn't try to ring twenty minutes ago." he grins, as he pulls on his trunks. "I definitely wouldn't have been able to answer the phone had she rung then."


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: This is the final chapter. Thank you to readers, and especially to those who have reviewed.**_

* * *

"What did Catherine ask you to tell me?" Ruth says, once they are dressed, and back in the kitchen. Harry is making a pot of coffee, and he turns towards her before speaking.

"She wants you to answer the door when she arrives. I don't know why, and in a way, I don't want to know."

They don't have long to wait. Just over thirty minutes after Catherine's phone call, they hear the knock on the door. They look at one another, and Ruth gets up from where she is sitting on the sofa, and heads to the front door, while Harry remains in the sitting room, with the coffee pot and cups. She can read the nervousness behind his expression. She stops and reaches down to him, placing a soft kiss on his lips before she leaves the room.

"It's alright, Harry," she says quietly. "I'll not let anything bad happen to you."

Harry smiles to himself as Ruth leaves the living room. He has always believed _he_ to be the one who should be looking after _her_.

Ruth opens the door to Catherine. She's not yet met her, but she recognises her from the footage Danny had shot of her a number of years previously. She looks a little older, and seems more grown up. They hug briefly, and then pull apart.

"I've been longing to meet you," Catherine says, "and I couldn't wait another month. I'm flying out in the morning."

"It's lovely to meet you at last. Harry's …... your dad's in the sitting room. He's a bit …... nervous about this surprise you have for him."

Catherine laughs lightly, and shakes her head. "He probably thinks I'm about to tell him I'm getting married, or worse, that I'm pregnant. No, this is much better than that."

Ruth is surprised when Catherine turns away from her, and steps back on to the small front porch, before she gestures to a figure standing by the gate. "It's alright," she says, "you can come inside now."

The figure slowly walks down the path, and joins Catherine on the porch. Ruth knows as soon as she sees his face, that she is looking into the eyes of Graham Pearce. It's not so much that he looks like Harry, which, apart from his mouth and the shape of his jaw, he doesn't. It is the look of him, a serious and hostile attitude which reminds her of Harry, and immediately she knows that this young man and his father are so much alike that they must surely bring out the very worst in each other. She puts out her hand to him, and he shakes it, smiling slightly.

"I'd know you anywhere. Welcome, Graham. Harry won't be expecting this."

"You don't think it too much all at once?" Catherine says from behind her brother. "I mean, in less than two weeks, Dad has dumped his wife -"

"Actually, I think she dumped him first," Ruth interrupts.

"Split up from her, then. He's found you – after all this time – and now it's the prodigal son at his front door."

"As long as you come with an open mind and a peaceful heart, Graham," Ruth says, looking into the pale grey eyes of the young man whom she may one day be able to call her step-son, "I'm sure Harry will be receptive. We can't stay out here too long, though. He can be quite suspicious of things over which he has no control."

With those words, Graham's slim face breaks into a wide smile. "That sounds like Harry."

"Graham, would you like to go into the sitting room alone, and Catherine and I will wait in the hallway outside the door, just in case either of you need calming down."

"I'm calm," Graham says, holding out his hands to show how steady they are. "I want this over with."

And Graham, true to his word, steps inside the house, and opens the door to the sitting room, shutting it behind him.

* * *

Harry turns when he hears the door close, and then he stops breathing. They each stare at the other, like a couple of male lions eyeing up the other. Harry knows he has to be the one to move first, so he gets up from the sofa, and steps towards his son, not sure whether Graham will welcome even a hand shake.

"This is such a wonderful surprise," Harry says, stepping close enough to grasp Graham's shoulder with one hand. Feeling no resistance in his son's body, he pulls him close for a quick hug, followed by a back slap. Then he pushes him to arm's length, and looks into his eyes. They are clear, and the intelligence has returned. After all, it is 9 years since they last saw one another, and that meeting had not gone at all well. "I hope this is your idea as well as Catherine's," Harry says.

Graham nods. "I thought it about time I acted like the adult I claim to be. Even Mum thought it a good idea."

Harry lifts his eyebrows in surprise at that last piece of news. "Would you like a coffee?" he asks.

"That would be nice. Thank you," and as he adds sugar and milk to his cup, he smiles across the coffee table at his father. "Shall we tell Catherine and Ruth to come in? They're waiting just the other side of that door."

Harry grins at his son. "We could either do that, or pretend to have the most disastrous reunion of all time."

In the end, it is Graham who opens the door to Ruth an Catherine, both of whom are taken by surprise, and have been having a close and quiet conversation of their own.

* * *

The four of them begin to talk all at once, and when Harry realises they are a cup short, he offers to get it from the kitchen. "And I'll bring some biscuits as well," he says to no-one in particular. When, five minutes later, he hasn't returned, Ruth notices.

"I'll just go and check on Harry," she says, as she leaves the room. Catherine and Graham are occupied inspecting the photographs Harry has displayed around the room. Apart from one of Ruth on her own, and another of he and Ruth – faces close together, both smiling at the camera - taken by Stefan in his coffee shop in Polis the week before, all the photographs are of Catherine and Graham.

"I can't remember ever seeing this photo," Graham says, as Ruth quietly leaves the room.

In the kitchen, all is quiet, and Harry stands at the sink. At first glance, he appears to be staring out the window, but as she gets closer, she can see his shoulders shaking. With the stealth of the spy she knows herself to be, Ruth steps beside him, and slides her arm around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. She knows that nothing is wrong, and that Harry is just overwhelmed by the emotion of seeing his son again.

"I love you, Harry," she says quietly, lifting her face so that she can see his reflection in the window above the sink.

He passes a hand down his face, and sniffs loudly as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "I don't know what to do with these …... these feelings," he says, his voice nasal from his nose being blocked.

"Just let them out," Ruth replies, pressing her lips to his neck.

"I'm not used to …... _feeling_ so much. Firstly you turn up again in my life, and now, on top of that, Graham comes in …... in peace. I think I must be the luckiest man in the world."

"I think it's your son who's the luckiest man, Harry. He's lucky he has such a wonderful man for a father."

"I haven't been much of a father to him."

"Then it's a good thing he's here now, ready to get to know the man you are now …... the man I love."

Ruth reaches up to grasp his face between her hands. She kisses his lips with a soft and gentle kiss, and she can taste his tears. She wipes her thumbs across his cheeks, removing the tears.

"These are tears of joy, Ruth."

"I know. You have to join us now."

"I'll wash my face first."

Harry slips into the utilities room, just off the kitchen, where she hears water running, while she gathers an extra coffee mug, and puts a few biscuits on a plate. By the time she is ready to return to the sitting room, Harry is standing beside her, his eyes shining.

"I love you too, Ruth," he says, his hand on the small of her back.

"I know you do. You show me every day."

"I don't know how I lived these last two and a half years without you. I was just existing ….. going through the motions, feeling nothing."

"As was I, Harry. We're luckier than most. We've found one another again, before it was too late."

They watch the face they each love the most, and then Ruth turns towards the sitting room, Harry close behind her. When they re-enter the sitting room, it is clear they have not been missed, although Graham notices their quiet entry.

"How come you kept all these old photographs?" he asks.

"I had to remember you somehow," Harry says quietly.

"You really need a few which are up to date, though. I mean, will you look at my hair? Most of these were taken in the nineties."

Harry and Ruth exchange a glance, and Ruth says, "We may as well fix that tonight. I'll get your camera."

"It's in the second drawer -"

"In the desk in your office, I know."

"You know?" Harry asks her. Ruth has turned towards the door.

"You forget, Harry. I know everything."

They exchange a smile, one which is just between them. Ruth heads off upstairs, while Harry talks with his children. He is part of a family again – he and Ruth, Catherine and Graham – and this is where he belongs.

Upstairs, Ruth closes the second drawer in Harry's desk, and heads back downstairs. It is years since she's been part of a family, and she doesn't want to miss even a minute of it.


End file.
